


The Deal

by PeachyRenjun



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dubious Consent, Fictional Religion & Theology, First Time, Heechul is an asshole and he knows it, M/M, Vaginal Sex, not quite hate to love but something along those lines, technically, whatever the abo version of misogyny is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyRenjun/pseuds/PeachyRenjun
Summary: When General Kim Heechul carries out a coup against the royal family he leaves only one of the king's children alive: the eldest omega prince, a virgin who's spent his entire adult life devoted to the god of purity. In order to solidify his own power, Heechul plans to marry the prince.In order to secure the prince's loyalty, Heechul strikes a deal with him.
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Kim Jaejoong, Kim Heechul/Park Jungsoo | Leeteuk, Kim Jongwoon | Yesung/Kim Ryeowook
Comments: 10
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring omegas with vaginas, regardless of gender. This first chapter is mostly setup (and a surprisingly large amount of something along the lines of smut), but the real relationship development comes later.

The light has already passed over the horizon when the knock on his door comes. Heechul looks up from the documents in front of him, lit by a careful candlelight, to see the servant girl at his door.

“What is it?”

She bites her lip, looking down. “The prince would like to talk with you.”

Heechul raises an eyebrow. “He is aware that he is my prisoner, and therefore that I am not at his beck and call, is he not?”

The girl takes a deep breath. Heechul almost feels bad for being so harsh to these servants. Almost. “He is willing to come to your rooms to talk, General.”

That’s more like it. Heechul smirks. “Well, then, I’ll be happy to talk to him.”

The girl leaves, and Heechul returns to his work. He’d not technically met the prince yet, between the fact that the prince had left the capital city in his teenage years and that Heechul had not come to live in the capital until his own late teens. He had heard from various underlings that the prince had been successfully removed from the temple he was taking refuge in back to the main palace and that, while he was not exactly enthusiastic about the marriage, he was cooperating. That was more than Heechul would have expected from the prince, an omega Heechul’s own age who’d spent his entire adult life as a symbol of purity. Heechul wouldn’t have been surprised to have heard that the man had committed suicide just to save his virginity, as terrible as it would have been for the next round of royal relatives that Heechul would have to go through in his quest for legitimacy.

“General Kim.”

Heechul’s gaze turns to the door, falling on the figure clad all in white who stands alone at his door, not even a guard beside him. He must be either incredibly foolish or incredibly clever to come alone. Heechul gestures for him to sit down across from him, in the rarely used visitors’ seat on the opposite side of the desk. The prince nearly glides across the floor as he moves, the long skirt on his gown obscuring the movement of his feet. As he sits in front of Heechul, the alpha tries to get a look at the omega’s face through the white veil that he wears, but to no end. There is nothing more than the hints of corners, of the angles of cheekbones, nose, and lips. It is just a little too thick to truly see the prince on the other side.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

The prince’s hands come to rest carefully in his lap, spine straight against the chair. True royal training. “You could kill me as soon as you marry me, technically. As soon as you take my virginity the legal power to rule passes from me to you, leaving me as nothing more than your spouse. Unprotected, compared to the power of a king.”

Heechul narrows his eyes. The prince speaks in a soft, lofty voice, but his words are incredibly straightforward. Even a minor lord would never be heard uttering words so blunt. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re going to figure it out either way. I’d rather you hear it from me first.”

Heechul leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Do you want me to kill you? Is that what this is?”

“No.”

“No?”

The prince shakes his head, taking one of his hands from his lap to place it exactly halfway between them on the desk. Pale, unblemished skin. Heechul would have thought he’d wear a glove, considering how fabric covers the rest of his body, but his hands remain unclothed. Vulnerable. “You have the option to kill me. I’m here to make a deal.”

Heechul raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What kind of deal?”

“You don’t kill me. I stay out of sight of whatever charade you want to make my kingdom into; I don’t interfere in it. I get to continue my prayers and wear my veil, and I stay out of your way. But I will be your only spouse, and I will give you as many children as my body is able to. That’s what I have to offer, take it or leave it.”

Heechul’s eyes settle on the prince’s hand. His fingers are not still, even though his voice is calm. His fingers are constantly moving, thumb touching to fingertip, brushing by, and then onto the next fingertip. This is truly his last option, or at least he believes it is. Perhaps he would prefer death over being one concubine among many. Perhaps he would prefer death if Heechul tried to use him for show. Heechul can respect that kind of determination, if so.

“You have nothing else to offer? A few children, you think that’s enough?”

The prince looks down for the first time since he’s come here. “I know it is not much. I will do my best to obey you, to be how an omega should be to their alpha. I don’t think there is much more I can truly give you, beyond giving you myself. I’m already giving you my kingdom.”

As if he had a choice. Heechul didn’t have his soldiers slaughter all of the prince’s siblings for him to refuse Heechul. Heechul can take pity on him, though. It brings him no benefit to deny anything to the prince, so long as he gets what he wants from him. Heechul would be a moron to think that the council of lords would not prefer heirs with some kind of royal blood in them.

“Deal,” Heechul says, after a moment, reaching out to place his hand in the prince’s. The omega looks up at him, and even through the veil Heechul can feel his surprise. “We should learn each other’s personal names, since we’re to be wed, shouldn’t we?”

The prince nods, squeezing Heechul’s hand a little tighter. “You can call me Jungsoo.”

“And you can call me Heechul.”

——

Heechul asks the council to hold the wedding as privately as possible. He has two brothers-in-law on the council, and between Yunho and Jongwoon they’re able to convince the others to agree. The council knows they’re under some amount of threat—a coup which has already wiped out the royal family would be unlikely to blink at killing a minor lord or two—but they like to keep their dignity, and Heechul has nothing against them so long as they don’t cause problems.

“He asked me to let him keep his veil,” Heechul says, as the time quickly approaches. Yunho had agreed to act as witness, and the ceremony would consist almost entirely of the act of consummation, with only Yunho and a doctor present. No need for pretty, empty words when it’s for the sake of a power transfer. “Do you think I should—”

“Just leave it alone during the ceremony. If he wants to let you see his face, he’ll tell you later. I’m sure he doesn’t want me or any other alpha seeing him.”

Heechul nods. Yunho’s right, as he always is. Another deep breath in. “And if he never lets me?”

Yunho looks at him, those black eyes looking deeper than ever. Yunho always knows what’s best. “His face isn’t exactly the part of him you’re concerned with, is it?”

“No,” Heechul replies, quietly. “I guess it’s not.”

Yunho leans back into his chair, the same chair where Jungsoo had sat a month earlier and made the deal. “Don’t tell Jaejoong I said that. He would disapprove.”

“Jaejoong disapproves of everything,” Heechul says, lips curling up in amusement. “He wouldn’t be my brother if he ever managed to speak a sentence without the acid burning his mouth.”

Yunho laughs. “Family trait, is it?”

“You’ve met Ryeowook, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice.”

“Then you’d know.”

Yunho takes a deep breath in. “I’m just glad you agreed to marry Jaejoong off to me instead of giving him to Yoochun.”

The name burns acrid in Heechul’s mouth even from just thinking of the man. Rarely does Heechul feel comfortable with the idea of burying someone in an unmarked grave, but he’d considered it for the dead prince. The thought of his little brother married to that scoundrel makes Heechul’s muscles ache, ready to fight the mere ghost of the man. He’d been far too much like his father. At least Jungsoo’s blood seems untainted by their vileness.

“I’m glad too,” Heechul says, “and not only since Jaejoong would’ve been in the line of succession if I had.”

Yunho looks down, shoulders pulling back. It is rare to see a lord such as Yunho look so small. “It is always regretful to kill one’s brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yunho shakes his head, taking a deep breath in. “I understand why you did it, Heechul. Changmin was a foolish child, and he wouldn’t have been able to take the throne.”

“Still.”

Yunho doesn’t respond. Heechul remembers growing up together, the five of them, with little Changmin always so focused on puzzles and riddles. He’d known more than the rest of them put together, in terms of what could be learned from books, but he’d stumble over everyday etiquette on a regular basis. A foolish child. How terrible it was that he’d fallen for one of the king’s omega daughters.

A knock on the door. Both alphas turn their heads.

“The doctor is here,” the servant says, voice in a fake whisper. “The prince is ready, as well.”

Heechul nods. “Have them come in, then. We’re ready.”

The doctor comes in first, and the alphas both bow politely to him. He may be of lesser status, compared to the two of them, but he has served in his profession for a long time. Worthy of respect.

A minute later, Jungsoo is led in, clad in what seems to be the same white gown that he is wearing everytime Heechul sees him. His veil is as fixed in place as ever, and Heechul decides that he will take Yunho’s advice, at least for now. Jungsoo wants to stay private, and if Heechul cannot grant him any larger comforts he can at least grant him that.

“Your hand,” Yunho says, gesturing to Jungsoo. Without a word, Jungsoo holds out his left hand, allowing the sleeve to fall back an inch to reveal the delicate tattoo on the back of his hand. Proof, without seeing his face or hearing his voice, that this was the real prince. They’d used a special kind of ink, Heechul had heard, which was so hard to find as to be unforgeable. As he looks at the little mark, mostly black but with little pieces of purple, green, red, and silver dotted around the back of his hand in what almost—not quite, purposefully a little off—reads as the name of the god Jungsoo has spent his adult life devoted to, he can see why it would be trusted with such a high degree of confidence.

Jungsoo quietly goes to sit on the edge of Heechul’s bed once his identity is confirmed. Heechul stands in front of him, the other alphas waiting a few steps back. They will have to check his virginity, of course, even if he was a symbol of purity. First, though, Heechul is allowed a few words, just a quick sentence or two.

He leans in to Jungsoo’s ear, breath ghosting against the fabric of the veil. “You won’t cause any trouble, will you?”

“No,” Jungsoo breathes back, quiet enough to be unnoticeable to the other two alphas.

“Good,” Heechul says. “I will try to make it hurt less, but I can’t make any promises.”

Heechul pulls away, and the two other alphas approach. Yunho stands at Heechul’s side, watching as the doctor gently prods Jungsoo to lay back, pulling his bare feet up onto the bed and spreading his legs. He is wearing nothing beneath the gown, and as the skirt falls back, Heechul sees that it is true what he’d always been told about Jungsoo: he is castrated, missing any indication that he had been born male. If it weren’t for the absence of a clitoris, you could have looked at Jungsoo’s genitals and called them truly female. The doctor reaches to pull back Jungsoo’s labia, revealing his little hole, obscured by his hymen.

“He’s intact,” the doctor says, letting go of Jungsoo and stepping back. “He should bleed, but as long as he’s not intact at the end we’ll consider it done.”

“Thank you,” Heechul says, nodding to the doctor. He and Yunho both step away, going over to sit at Heechul’s desk. To give them privacy, or at least what they’re allowed of it. As if watching from across the room will give them any more information than listening from outside. Really, what alpha would try to fake taking the virginity of their bride?

Heechul comes to rest between Jungsoo’s legs, not undoing his own belt until he’s certain the other alphas will not be able to see. No matter how proud one is of oneself, it’s not polite to go showing it off. Jungsoo does not move, even though the fabric of Heechul’s clothes must brush against his legs. As Heechul brings himself to hardness, he rests his other hand lightly on Jungsoo’s hip. “Wrap your legs around my hips,” Heechul commands, not expecting Jungsoo to obey. He said he wouldn’t cause trouble, but he said nothing about obeying Heechul’s petty commands.

Nevertheless, Heechul feels Jungsoo’s heels bump against the back of his thighs a few seconds later. Good boy. Heechul judges himself hard enough and places the head at Jungsoo’s entrance. From feeling alone he can tell that he is far too big for Jungsoo’s cunt, but he knows that Jungsoo will stretch. It will be painful, but he will stretch. Heechul is not allowed to stretch him with his fingers first. Only a cock can take an omega’s virginity without it being wasted. “Relax,” Heechul says, rubbing soft circles into Jungsoo’s hip. “It’ll be over soon.”

Jungsoo nods, once, twice, and while he is still distracted Heechul pushes in, past whatever resistance his hymen could put up. Jungsoo screams, the sound only barely muffled by the veil. Heechul feels a tug at his heart. Of all the things that could cause him to feel guilty, it was one omega screaming in pain at his virginity being taken. Sure, it was Heechul’s own doing, but it was routine. Expected. How all omegas hurt when they are taken.

“It’s alright,” Heechul murmurs, now letting both hands rest on Jungsoo’s waist. “The worst is over.” He stills inside, once he’s fully in. He may not be able to stretch Jungsoo with his fingers beforehand, but he can at least give Jungsoo some time to adjust. “Tell me when you want me to move.”

“Do it,” Jungsoo says, without pause. “Just get it over with.”

“It’ll hurt more if I do it now,” Heechul warns.

“Anything you could do now will hurt, just do it.”

Fine. Heechul tried to make it hurt less, but if Jungsoo doesn’t want any help then Heechul won’t give it to him. Heechul sends Jungsoo a last look of concern before he draws his hips back and thrusts back in. Jungsoo lets out a soft groan, but he doesn’t scream. He’s adjusted enough, then. Heechul lets himself tone out any of the moral concerns and enjoy the feeling of Jungsoo, tight and wet around him. Tighter than anyone else Heechul has ever been with by far.

Jungsoo’s hands grasp at Heechul’s fingers, pulling Heechul away from the flesh of his hips to intertwine their fingers. Hand in hand. As if Jungsoo trusts him, as if Jungsoo can rely on him for comfort. Even while refusing help Jungsoo still takes from him this small comfort. If that’s all Jungsoo wants, how could Heechul refuse him?

Heechul feels his knot growing as he thrusts. He has already technically taken Jungsoo, sure, but it’s only by knotting him that he completes this. That he will fully own Jungsoo, body and soul, so that their agreement holds. Jungsoo can have his god, but Heechul will always come first. After all, a god can’t put a child in Jungsoo’s womb.

The knot catches, and Heechul can’t help but squeezing Jungsoo’s fingers tightly in his own as he reaches orgasm. Jungsoo will get no such comfort, his body incapable of orgasm, but he holds tight to Heechul’s hands in return as Heechul comes down from the high, still spilling into Jungsoo. It will take a few minutes before the knot goes down, and Heechul takes the opportunity to untangle his right hand from Jungsoo’s left, gently reaching up to feel Jungsoo’s cheek through the veil. He feels something almost moist against his finger, and as he pulls his finger away, he notices the wet patch in the veil where the fabric had touched his cheek. 

“It’s done,” Heechul says, quietly enough that the other two alphas shouldn’t hear.

“Almost,” Jungsoo whispers in response.

“Yes,” Heechul replies. “Almost.”

Heechul doesn’t touch Jungsoo’s cheek again, knowing the other would not want him to, at least not while the other two could see it. It would not be something to be ashamed of, really. All omegas cry when they are taken. But Jungsoo is not like other omegas. He is too perfect, too close to a god to ever be seen humiliated. They had taken away his ability to feel physical pleasure in the hope it would make him like a god, and instead he lay the only surviving member of his family, his godlike purity taken from him by their murderer. Heechul isn’t sure whether he should laugh at the irony or feel sorry for the wretched omega in his bed.

“It’s done,” Heechul says, louder, as he smoothes out his clothes and steps away from Jungsoo. The omega’s legs drop from their place at his hips, letting him step farther away, and even before Yunho and the doctor walk across the room to do the final check, Heechul can see that Jungsoo has bled.

“Mix of semen and blood,” the doctor says, observing Jungsoo with his fingers annoyingly close to Jungsoo’s opening. “Hymen clearly torn. I’d guess a younger omega would probably already be pregnant from this kind of knotting, but given this one’s age I’d say he might need another go or two to make sure.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Heechul says through clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Yunho says, jumping in. “Thank you, doctor. Why don’t you and I go finish the paperwork and leave these two alone?”

“Mm, yes, that’s a good idea,” the doctor responds. “Congratulations, and good luck with a future pregnancy.”

Yunho escorts the doctor out, keeping him from giving any more unwanted comments. Heechul is blunt, and he is an alpha, but he has very little patience for the kind of alphas that talk past omegas as if they aren’t there. Heechul remembers how he was treated as a little child, before he’d presented as an alpha. How ironic that the eldest son everyone had predicted to be an omega would turn out to be the family’s only alpha.

“You want a bath, don’t you?” Heechul asks, turning to where Jungsoo is still lying on the bed, legs now flat against the bed. “I know I would.”

Jungsoo lets out a deep breath. “I’m certainly not opposed to the idea of a bath.”

“Together, or would you like to be alone?”

Silence. Heechul waits.

“I’d rather be alone. Thank you, though.”

Heechul nods, stepping away. “I’ll arrange for the servants to run you a bath. I have a separate bedroom arranged just down the hall if you would like your own room, but you’re welcome here as well.”

Jungsoo nods, slowly sitting up. “Thank you, Heechul.”

“Of course,” Heechul responds, biting his tongue.

He goes to sit at his desk after he tells one of the servant girls to run the bath, and he doesn’t bat an eye when Jungsoo doesn’t return to his bed that night.

——

Heechul sits on the throne he had once gazed up to and sworn allegiance to before, crown now on his head. The council lords bow before him, one at a time, each presenting a gift to their new king. Mostly small things; all symbolic. Heechul’s mind is elsewhere.

Jungsoo sits on the ground beside him, legs tucked carefully beneath himself, clad in a red gown and matching red veil. No longer virginal white. Heechul has defiled him, taken his right to rule and his godly innocence. The perfect, pure omega prince that Heechul had once regarded as a god himself, reduced to this. Sitting like a dog at Heechul’s feet.

If it wasn’t for their deal, Heechul’s sure Jungsoo would’ve been dead within a week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in this chapter, we finally begin to grow a plot...

“You knew Jungsoo before he presented, didn’t you?”

“I met him a few times,” Jongwoon replies, pushing a glass of vodka across the table to Heechul. “Didn’t know him particularly well, but I know what he looked like before he started dressing like he was preparing to be a human sacrifice, yes.”

Heechul laughs, taking a sip from the glass. It burns going down, but it makes him feel slightly less bad about this whole situation, so he indulges in it every so often. Usually when he has one of his friends or brothers-in-law to sit with him. Then he feels less like a drunkard and more like a commiserator. Small difference, really, but at least it’s something.

“What was he like?”

“Before? Hell, I don’t remember. It was a long time ago, Heechul. We were children, and I was more focused on whether or not I was bowing correctly. He could’ve ended up being the next king, you know. If he’d been an alpha.”

Heechul sighs. How much a life course like that must do to someone: being raised to be king, only to present as an omega, have your dick chopped off, be sent to live in a convent for fifteen years, and then lose your family. Heechul has no regrets having killed the king or most of the other princes (they were all either assholes or incompetent) but he does hope it hasn’t hurt Jungsoo too much. Of course, Jungsoo wouldn’t tell him if it had. He doesn’t tell him much of anything.

“What did he look like, then? You said you remembered that much.”

Jongwoon leans back in his seat, taking a long drink of his own glass. “I remember what he looks like, it doesn’t mean I know what he looks like now. You know omegas tend to become more feminine after they present. He probably looks completely different now.”

“Just tell me,” Heechul says. “Any information I can get is more than I currently have.”

Jongwoon sets his glass down, raising a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re married to him. You’re telling me you can’t just lift his veil while he’s sleeping and look?”

Heechul shakes his head. “It’s not that I couldn’t, I just don’t think he would want me to.” Well, Jungsoo didn’t sleep in his bed either. Heechul could look at him during sex, if he really wanted to, but he has a feeling that would violate Jungsoo in a way the other would never forgive him for. They are bound to each other now, for better or for worse.

“And he didn’t want to marry you, either. There’s not exactly much of a track record of you doing what he wants you to.”

Well, Jongwoon doesn’t know about the deal they made, but that’s not much of an excuse. Jungsoo didn’t _want_ to marry him, he just made the circumstances around the marriage slightly more favorable. This isn’t how Jungsoo wanted his life to be. Maybe, though, his life before hadn’t been either. Heechul knows enough to know that Jungsoo hadn’t chosen a life of prayer anymore than he’d chosen marriage.

“I’m not enough of an asshole to go out of my way to disrespect his wishes,” Heechul replies, taking a long drink. “I do what I have to do, and beyond that I don’t hurt him.”

“Then if he doesn’t want you to see his face, I’m not going to help you forget out what he looks like,” Jongwoon says. “Just leave him alone, and if he wants you to see then he’ll show you. Simple enough.”

Heechul knows he should leave it alone. Jongwoon and Yunho both have a point, when they tell him to leave it, but he’s curious. Jungsoo is his, but he’s barely spoken a word to him beyond what’s necessary; he’s never touched him beyond what’s necessary; hell, Heechul knows nothing about him beyond what’s necessary. Forgive him for wanting to know a little bit more about the future mother of his children. He’s seen Jungsoo’s hands, heard his voice, felt him more closely than anyone else had ever felt him, and yet he still has never been able to look him in the eye. Jungsoo would have kind eyes, ones that are as soft and pretty as his voice. He would not stare too long, his eyes always falling when someone catches him watching. That’s what he seems like, at least.

“I suppose,” he says, and leaves it at that. “You wanted to talk with me about your estate, didn’t you?”

Jongwoon nods, his fingers settling around his glass. “I’ve been getting reports that the harvest has been worse than usual. Bad weather, insects, everything. The other lords have been experiencing similar things, but most of them don’t want to tell you. You know how they are. Ryeowook would’ve told you if I didn’t, though.”

Of course he would have. Ryeowook was nothing if not organized and opinionated, and he was intent upon getting as close to a position of power as he possibly could as an omega third son. Ambition was a trait that ran in their family, though, if Jaejoong’s willingness to suck his way into an influential marriage was any indication. At least Heechul had persuaded him into taking a lord over a prince. 

“Tell Ryeowook that I’ve got the message,” Heechul replies. “He’ll probably write me anyway, but at least that way he’ll feel slightly guilty about it.”

Jongwoon laughs. “He always gets more feisty during his pregnancies. I swear, he almost killed me for leaving him on the estate while I came to live at court.”

“As he should,” Heechul says, smirking. “Omegas should never have to sleep alone, once they’re married.”

“He already has our other children to keep him company. He’ll be fine for a few weeks without me.”

Heechul shakes his head, taking a deep breath in. If Jongwoon gets skinned alive by his own omega, Heechul will simply laugh. It’s not that he _wants_ to see the man dead, but he certainly wouldn’t mind seeing him a little roughed up. Most alphas deserve it, Heechul himself included. “I’ll look into it, Jongwoon, don’t worry.”

“Make sure you look into the other lords’ estates as well. One estates problems are manageable; if everyone is having problems then it becomes the kingdom’s problems.”

——

“He’s gone to the temple. He’ll be back soon.”

Heechul turns, seeing a young woman standing at the door of Jungsoo’s room. Beta, by her scent. One of the attendants that Jungsoo brought with him. “Does he usually take long?”

“Depends on the day. Not too long, though. He does most of his prayers here.” She walks over to the tea cabinet across the room, arranging a tea set on a tray. “You can wait here for him, if you’d like. The prince isn’t very fond of black tea, so I can make you some to help clear it out.”

“Sure,” Heechul says, walking over to sit down at the little tea table and cushions that Jungsoo had arranged in the corner. “What does he like, then?”

“Green tea. It’s lighter, but smells nicer.”

Heechul nods. “Any specific flavor?”

“It changes. Different flavors in the spring and the fall.”

“Does he choose them, or do you?”

The woman smiles amusedly, setting the tea tray down in front of Heechul. “Normally Jonghyun decides. I only make tea when he’s not here.”

“And he’s not here.”

“No, no he’s not.” She sits down across from Heechul, pouring a cup for Heechul and then one for herself. Brave girl. “The prince wanted Jonghyun to accompany him at the temple today.”

“What do they do at the temple?” Heechul had never been allowed in the temple. Only adult submissive types were allowed in, at least to the temples of Jungsoo’s goddess, and that meant that everything that happened inside remained a complete mystery to Heechul.

“Pray. Give offerings. If it’s a bad day, the prince will cry. The rest of us try not to cry, at least not while the prince is there.”

Heechul feels his chest get tighter. He ignores it. “Do you know why he cries?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about it that often,” she says. “The others might know more. But either way, they probably wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“They’re loyal to a fault.”

Heechul watches her carefully as he raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”

“I’m loyal. I’m not stupid.”

Heechul takes a sip of his tea. “That’s always good to hear.”

“Isn’t it?”

Heechul laughs. “What’s your name?”

“Joohyun.”

“Well, Joohyun, I hope you keep that philosophy.”

“Thank you. I’ll try.”

Heechul sets his cup down, refilling it, before he looks back up to look her in the eye. “You’re not terribly formal, are you, Joohyun?”

She looks down, seeming for the first time almost shy. “You know we attendants don’t have a very high opinion of you.”

“I’ve picked up on that,” Heechul replies. Between the way that they rarely talked to him, almost never bowed, and often actively went out of their way to leave every room he walked in to, he had picked up on it. “Why?”

“Because we don’t consider what you and the prince have a marriage,” Joohyun says. “He’s been next to the goddess herself, in terms of holiness, ever since he presented. You know that, right?”

Heechul nods.

“He’s still the holiest among us. That didn’t change. He just went from being a saint to being a martyr. And you’re the person that did it to him.”

Heechul meets her eye. She doesn’t back down. “Martyrs are dead. Jungsoo isn’t.”

“Not yet.” Joohyun stands, taking her cup of tea with her. “Don’t tell the prince anything I said. It’s not for him to know.”

She switches out her cup for a clean one, placing it down across from Heechul before leaving the room. Heechul knows better than to try and question her further. She wouldn’t answer. He knows her type.

Jungsoo comes back a few minutes later, one of the male attendants trailing a few steps behind him. Jonghyun, if Heechul’s not mistaken. There were two males, out of Jungsoo’s five attendants, and both of them were about the same height and build. Heechul would not have known they weren’t the same person if he hadn’t seen them walking together.

“You usually don’t come so early in the evening,” Jungsoo comments, sitting down across from Heechul. “What happened?”

“Can’t I just want to see you?”

Jungsoo laughs, shaking his head. “Of course you want to see me, Heechul. Of course.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“I never said you were lying.”

“You implied it.”

Jungsoo drops it, instead reaching for the teapot in the middle of the table. Heechul sets his own hand on Jungsoo’s stopping him from picking it up. “Joohyun said you didn’t like black tea.”

Jungsoo tilts his head. “And?”

“We’ll brew some green tea instead.”

Jungsoo pulls back his hand. “Fine, sure. Jonghyun?”

The other omega comes across the room to take the tea pot away, looking away from Heechul the whole time. They really do hate Heechul, all five of them. He supposes he can understand why. They’d all met Jungsoo through religion, and Heechul had taken part of that religion from them. He’d betrayed their goddess.

“I want to talk with you,” Heechul says, taking Jungsoo’s hand in his across the table. “We don’t do much of that.”

“For a reason.”

“Is there?”

“What would you and I have to talk about, Heechul? It’s not like we’re in love.”

Heechul sighs. “We don’t have to be in love to talk. We’re married.”

“And part of our deal was to keep out of each other’s way.”

The deal. Of course. Heechul knows he should never be as lenient as he was with Jungsoo when he made that deal, but really, it was out of pity that he did it. Would Jungsoo love or respect him more if he made the deal than if he didn’t? Of course not. Jungsoo was in this for himself, the same way Heechul was. They all have pretty words to say about saving kingdoms and toppling the unworthy and incompetent, but those were just words. Words will never mean as much as actions. “I don’t want the deal to constrain us,” Heechul says, speaking pretty words, “I want it to be the base that we build on.”

“And you can build on it by sticking to its principles,” Jungsoo says, voice bitter as he pulls his hand away from Heechul’s. “Leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone. Simple enough.”

“Can we at least revise the deal?”

“No.” Jungsoo turns, looking across the room to where Jonghyun is preparing the green tea. “Jonghyun, leave it. We’re not going to need tea. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jonghyun nods, bowing to them once. His eyes scan over Heechul, poison in his glance, and then he leaves. The door shuts behind him with a purposefully heavy noise—Joohyun had closed the same door earlier nearly silently—and Jungsoo turns back to Heechul.

“Let’s just get it over with.”

Jungsoo stands, walking across the room to his bed. He settles in the middle of the bed, on his back, and Heechul comes to lay between his legs a moment later.

It feels worse, in Heechul’s chest. The physical pleasure doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t change, from night to night, but Jungsoo always does. Some nights he is soft and warm, his arms and legs clinging to Heechul’s back, keeping Heechul in his embrace even when the knot goes down. Other nights, like tonight, it hurts. Jungsoo is cold, barely moving, without any sound. On nights like these, Heechul feels less like he is in union with his omega and more like he is fucking a corpse. Maybe Joohyun was right. Maybe Jungsoo really is a martyr.

As Heechul gets out of bed, after the knot goes down and he lets go, Jungsoo finally speaks. “Are you having sex with me to get me pregnant, or just because it feels good?”

“Why does it matter?” Heechul doesn’t really know that either.

“If I told you I was pregnant, would you keep having sex with me or not?”

Heechul pauses. “Are you pregnant?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

Heechul nods to himself. Bound to happen. “If you don’t want me to sleep with you, then I won’t.”

“You know I don’t like sex.”

“Then we won’t sleep together.” Heechul finishes smoothing out his clothes and looks back to see Jungsoo on the bed, knees pulled to his chest. He looks almost like a scared child. Heechul tries not to linger on it. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”

He leaves, and the next time he hears anything about Jungsoo it is via a note scrawled in one of the attendants’ handwriting, telling him the doctor has confirmed the pregnancy.

——

Unlike their youngest brother, Jaejoong lives in the capital at all times, and he complains about his husband’s constant presence on a regular basis. 

“Yunho won’t let me go out to the gardens at the edge of the city,” Jaejoong says one day, walking alongside Heechul in the perfectly-lovely gardens surrounding the palace. “He says it’s too dangerous for me to go.”

“Fuck him,” Heechul says, reaching to pluck a pretty leaf from one of the nearby bushes. “Take one of your guards and go. If he gets angry at you, tell him to come talk to me.”

A little smile comes to Jaejoong’s lips. “Life is nice when you have power, don’t you?”

Heechul pauses. He had known Jaejoong would get a kick out of being the king’s little brother, but he had thought the other would at least have the tact not to point out how the power itself felt. They’re in a precarious situation already, considering that the council of lords is constantly on Heechul’s back. They don’t need to give the lords a reason to think that Heechul would abuse his power the same way the previous king did. “Don’t, Jaejoong.”

“Aw, come on. You can at least say it’s a little nice.”

“Unlike you,” Heechul says, taking his little brother’s arm in his own, “I have a sense of propriety. And that means that I watch what I say, even if I could get away with saying worse.”

“But if you can get away with saying it—“

“Sometimes,” Heechul interrupts, “you have to at least consider other people. You like taking care of people, don’t you, Jae?”

“Mhm.”

“Then apply that logic to speech. Other people have feelings, and when you say things rashly, it can hurt them.”

Jaejoong pouts. “And how did anything I said hurt you?”

“It’s…” Heechul sighs. “It’s not always about hurting people, Jaejoong. It’s about consequences. And oftentimes, those consequences involve people getting hurt. I used to say whatever I wanted to, you know. But then—“

“Then you presented and father decided you would be best off in the military. They had to beat the omega wiliness out of you.”

Heechul’s eye twitches. Jaejoong is right, but Heechul doesn’t like admitting how right he often is. Perceptive to a T, and yet completely unable to put that perceptiveness into action. “Yes, technically.” He shakes it off. “The point is that I was forced to grow up. You, on the other hand.”

“Me?” Jaejoong looks at him with feigned shock. “I am a perfect husband and mother, Heechul.”

“Just because you have children doesn’t mean you don’t act like a child yourself.”

Jaejoong pouts once more, leaning in closer to Heechul’s side. It’s awkward, walking side-by-side, because Jaejoong is just a hint taller than Heechul and it has never ceased to drive the alpha insane. At least Jaejoong is, by some definition, adorable. “And you said you shouldn’t say mean things to people.”

“You’re my little brother. It’s my job to say mean things to you.”

Jaejoong harrumphs, breaking his arm out of Heechul’s grasp and making a show of walking away. He stops after only a few quickened steps, though, turning back to meet Heechul’s eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “You should take care of me, Chul. Isn’t that what big brothers are supposed to do?”

Heechul rolls his eyes. “Sure, sure.” As if he hasn’t taken care of Jaejoong enough, keeping him out of harm’s way over the years. Jaejoong is blessed with three things in life: beauty, nobility, and ignorance. “How about you go out to see the gardens with my husband? I’ll ask him if he’d like to go, and if he says yes then you can go together with the royal guard. No reason for Yunho to refuse you, then.”

Jaejoong smiles, coming back to Heechul’s side and happily latching back onto Heechul’s arm. “Thank you, Chul.”

Heechul just wishes Jungsoo were as easy to pacify as Jaejoong.


	3. Chapter 3

It seems like weeks, even months, pass by without Heechul seeing Jungsoo. His attendants tell Heechul that he’s doing fine (Soojung, another beta girl, gives him daily updates just so Heechul won’t bother Joohyun or Jonghyun about it), but Heechul still worries. He tries not to, of course. Worry is a useless emotion, and when it’s over the wellbeing of an omega that barely tolerates Heechul’s presence, it’s beyond useless. Still.

“His morning sickness was worse today than normal,” Soojung says, standing awkwardly at the door to Heechul’s room as she always does. She comes in, gives her reports, tolerates a question or two, and then leaves as quickly as humanly possible. At least Joohyun had some tolerance for teasing; Soojung seems tense from the moment she enters to the moment she leaves. “He rested in bed for a few extra hours instead of taking his walks around the gardens.”

Never good to hear, but at least he got some rest. “Thank you, Soojung.”

She half-bows, leaving the room as quickly as she had entered it. With a sigh, Heechul sets down his pen, standing to walk around his room. He has a few potted plants throughout the room, little flowers and bushes of different sorts, and with only a little hesitation he walks to one of the pots and reaches down to pick a blue rose.

Blue roses are rare, but he thinks Jungsoo would probably prefer it over red roses or white ones. Both colors have too many meanings; red is a symbol of love, which wouldn’t do; and white is a symbol of purity, which would surely make Jungsoo think Heechul is mocking him. Blue, though, a blue rose would be just out of the ordinary and lacking symbolic meaning enough that Jungsoo would likely appreciate it (or at least not resent it). Heechul hopes that Jungsoo would appreciate it. It’s Heechul’s fault that he’s suffering, after all. The least he can do is send him a flower.

After writing a quick note, Heechul takes the note and the rose in hand to walk down the hall to Jungsoo’s room. He stops at the door, nodding to the guard at Jungsoo’s door. “What’s your name?” He asks the guard.

“Choi Minho, Sir.”

Heechul looks at him carefully. He can see a bit of resemblance, but not enough to say for sure. “Related to Lord Choi or only sharing his name?”

“Siwon is my cousin, Sir.”

Heechul nods. That would make sense. Close enough in blood to have some semblance of resemblance, but not close enough to make it obvious without the name. “Do you know why I wasn’t a lord, Minho?”

“No, Sir.”

“I wasn’t a lord because my father was a second child. I’m the cousin of Lady Kim.” Kim Saeun, one of the only women in the council of lords, was a female alpha with an omega male husband, and while Heechul felt that she represented their family well, he would always have the slightest feeling of resentment that the seat had not been his. Well, he’d surpassed her anyway. “My father made me become a soldier once I presented because it was the only respectable thing for an alpha noble without an inheritance to do. I worked my way up, though.”

Minho nods, eyes closely watching him. “And how did you work your way up?”

Heechul glances over the fact that Minho had forgot his formalities. That means he’s paying attention. “Loyalty, Minho. You can never change anything until you have the influence to do it successfully.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“It’s good that you understand that, Minho. I have a favor to ask of you.”

Minho nods. “Of course, Sir.”

“Can you give this to either the prince or one of his attendants? Neither would be particularly happy to see me, but I want to make sure this gets to him.”

Minho nods, politely taking the rose and the note. “Will do, Sir.”

Heechul watches him carefully, trying to keep his own eyes from flitting to the door and imagining what Jungsoo must be doing on the other side. “Always be attentive in your duty, Minho. The prince is very precious.”

Minho looks at him, eyes watching Heechul with the same kind of perceptive depth that Heechul remembers watching his own senior officers with, before he nods once more, returning to perfect posture. “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”

“Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, Sir.”

_I heard you weren’t able to see the gardens today. I know one flower will never be able to make up for the absence of a thousand others, but I hope that it will make you feel a little better. - Heechul_

He never gets a note back, but the next time Soojung comes to do her updates (the morning sickness, she reports, isn’t as bad as the previous day) she sets a necklace down on the table and slides it across to Heechul. A plain silver chain, with a pendant of the goddess of family hanging from the middle. Not Jungsoo’s goddess, but one they’re both familiar with. The one that must be guarding over Jungsoo now. It’s a message in itself, and one that reads as clear as any note that Jungsoo could have written him.

Heechul sends a light pink peony the next night, without a note.

——

“In total, 47 of the 60 lords are now reporting some kind of agricultural problems, either on their estates or within their larger area of control. This isn’t a little problem anymore.”

Heechul picks up his pen, writing down a few notes. “Is it concentrated in a certain area of the kingdom, or is scattered?”

“Mostly in the East. A few scattered cases.” Yunho has a stack of papers open in front of himself, half of them written in the handwriting of the other lords. “One of the lords in the South also reports odd ocean currents. It doesn’t match with observed patterns for this time of year.”

Heechul raises an eyebrow. “Not going to tell me specifically which lord?”

Yunho shakes his head. “You know how the lords are. Proud in their successes and anonymous in their troubles.”

“Yunho, you’re one of them.”

“Yes, and that’s why I know how they think.”

“And the fact that you’re my brother-in-law, is that why you have the other lords’ complaints in your notebooks?”

Yunho laughs. “Of course. That and the fact that Jongwoon would manage to misplace his own chopsticks in the middle of eating dinner.”

“It’s a blessing he married my brother,” Heechul notes. “He’d probably have misplaced everything in his estate if my brother wasn’t there to organize it for him.”

Painstakingly. Ryeowook had sent Heechul multiple letters, in the early years of his marriage to Jongwoon, about how he had been through every room on the estate, taking stock and organizing. There wasn’t a pin in that house unaccounted for, and if one ever came up missing, Ryeowook would know of it within the hour.

“Anything we can blame the shortfalls for? Lack of rainfall, bad soil?” Heechul returns to his notes, looking through the reports that Yunho had already gone through. There were all patterns of what was happening, but nothing that would indicate why. A problem can’t have a solution until its cause has been understood.

“All of the lords have different suspicions,” Yunho says, returning to his notes. “Some of them say the rain has been less frequent, others blame cold temperatures earlier than usual in the year. Some blame it on bad laborers, others on untrained animals pulling the plows. One lord says it’s like the ground itself doesn’t want to grow wheat. All the flowers and bushes grow, but wherever they try to plant wheat, rice, any other staple food, it just won’t grow.”

“Weird.”

“Very.”

“Then again, some of the lords have a tendency to be dramatic. Is that from one of the lords that likes poetry more than people?”

An amused grin pricks at the corners of Yunho’s lips. He glances down at his notes, shaking his head. “That report is from a man I’d normally trust. A bit fond of showing off his vocabulary, but otherwise perfectly sane.”

Worrying. When the sane man starts personifying ground, something is truly wrong. “Are any of the other lords reporting something similar, or is it just him?”

“So far, he’s the only one. Some of the others come close, but they always settle on a concrete reason. If begrudgingly.”

Heechul nods, scratching down another note. “We’ll consider the other cases more important for now, then. The more we can narrow down possible causes the better off we’ll be.”

Yunho nods, but Heechul can tell his mind is stuck on something else. Yunho is normally rather direct, and whenever he hesitates, it means that he’s on some train of thought that Heechul isn’t going to like. “You realize,” Yunho says slowly, “that with the numbers we’ve been given for shortages we’re already wading into a possible famine.”

Heechul had realized that, but he had hoped that the other wouldn’t put it into words. Things are always much easier to avoid when they haven’t been spoken aloud. “I know. Tell the lords to do their best at distribution of the supplies they do have. We’re not going to let favoritism play into this the way the last king did, right?”

“Right,” Yunho says. “No one wants a repeat of the last famine.”

Heechul and Yunho had both been safe from it, as nobles, but they’d seen their people die day by day for months as what little food that existed was shipped to the cities under the king’s orders. Not because there hadn’t been enough food to go around, if they had stretched it, but because the king’s brothers were lords of cities. It is good to be loyal to family, but never to the point of starving thousands for the sake of loyalty.

“Good,” Heechul says. He sets his pen down. “This all will have been for nothing if we can’t make improvements over the last king’s rule. I don’t like spilling blood in vain.”

“None of us do,” Yunho replies. “At least not those of us with a conscience.”

Heechul sighs. He’d come of age in the military, and he’d seen more than enough alphas who would spill blood for the fun of it. New recruits would be whipped by their commanders for little more than breathing incorrectly and the boy soldiers who carried supplies would be caned for dropping an officer’s sword. The soldiers were worst toward submissive types, especially toward omegas. Those among them lucky enough to be married would talk about their husbands and wives as little more than objects; Heechul had heard more than one man describe the way that he’d taken pleasure in his spouse’s pained screams. They were disgusting men, the whole lot of them, but they’d practically raised Heechul from the time he was a teenager. He’d eliminate them all from the world, if he could, but he knows that he would have to count himself among them.

“You should never let a man who spills blood for fun in a position of power,” Heechul says. “Because once someone gets a taste for it, they’ll never stop.”

——

The fall harvest festival comes, and even without a full harvest, the people must celebrate. Even if it is only to celebrate the chilling of the air, the people must celebrate. Heechul doesn’t hold a feast, if only because he doesn’t want to waste food pleasing the lords, but he helps Jaejoong pass out little cakes to the children of the lords who decide to stay in the capital for the holiday, with extras given to whichever children pass by, no matter their rank. The children always look so happy with cakes in their hand, noble or peasant alike.

Heechul blows out the candle at his desk. The festivities are over for the night, and Heechul’s attempts to finish a little more of the paperwork that’s waiting for him seem less and less likely to succeed with each passing moment. He begins to walk over to bed when he hears a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Heechul pauses, turning to look expectantly at the door. It’s just a hint open, which meant the guard at the door must have found no problem with whoever it is. Probably a servant, then.

“Heechul.” It’s been a long time since Heechul has heard that voice. His heart starts to beat a little faster in his chest.

“Jungsoo? What is it?”

“I just…” He’s still lingering at the door, his shadow slightly visible as Heechul’s eyes begin to adjust fully to the darkness. “I heard the thunder earlier.”

Heechul’s eyes soften. “Come in, then. Storms can only hurt you when you’re alone.” The door closes softly, and Heechul hears the gentle pitter-patter of feet across the floor. “I just blew out my candle, but I can light it again if you’d like to sit at my desk for awhile.”

“No, I need sleep. I just can’t get any alone.”

Heechul nods. “Can you find your way in the dark?”

“Yes, Heechul,” Jungsoo says exasperatedly. “I’m fine.”

Heechul climbs into bed himself, hearing the rustle of the covers as Jungsoo climbs in the other side. “Don’t you have your attendants with you? I thought they would be able to keep you company.”

“I sent them home to spend the festival with their families.”

Heechul feels his chest clench a little, just from having Jungsoo simultaneously so close and so far from him. He won’t touch Jungsoo without his permission, even in the most innocent of ways, and so he knows that there’s nothing he can do beside lay back and let Jungsoo decide how far away he wants to be. “All five of them? I thought you would’ve kept at least one here.”

“It wouldn’t have been fair if I did,” Jungsoo says. “They all deserved to be able to rest a little. Besides, you know, they’re not like I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be pure my whole life, but they’re just attendants in their youth. Most of them have marriages waiting for them in a few years.”

“Marriages for love or for status?”

“For love. Or at least because their parents thought it was a good match. They’re all from peasant families.” Jungsoo’s voice is soft, barely loud enough for Heechul to hear clearly. “Minseok is from this little village in the south, with two little brothers. The youngest one’s a newly presented alpha, and the middle brother just married an alpha a few months ago. All farmers, but the youngest brother likes tending the horses because he understands them better than he understands people.

“Minseok’s known his fiancé since they were little kids. A beta a few years younger than him. He decided he’d rather become an attendant for a few years and wait for his love to grow up instead of marrying someone else. It’s really sweet. He loves him a lot.”

Heechul hums. Jungsoo sounds so happy talking about his attendants’ lives. Heechul can’t help but think that it’s because Jungsoo was never given the chance to live his own life the way that they were. “Sounds like it.”

“Taeyeon and Joohyun both have marriage arrangements as well, but Joohyun still gets crushes on pretty girls all the time. She doesn’t care what their subgender is, she just likes pretty girls.”

“Really?” Heechul asks, amused.

“Mhm,” Jungsoo replies. “I think she has a crush on Soojung. Don’t tell either of them I said that, though.”

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.” As if the attendants talked to him enough for him to tell them that. “What about Soojung and Jonghyun?”

“Soojung is still figuring out what she’s going to do. She has someone back home, I think. She doesn’t go into a lot of detail.” Jungsoo turns over onto his side to face toward Heechul. “Jonghyun doesn’t have marriage plans, but I think he has a crush on one of the guards.”

“Yeah?”

“The two of them are always blushing around each other. I just want to lock them in a room together and force them to talk. I don’t think they even know each other’s names, even though they obviously like each other.”

Heechul smiles. “That sounds like a lovely plan. We all need more young love around the palace.”

Jungsoo hums in what sounds like agreement. “It’ll keep the rest of us young, right?”

“Something like that.”Heechul looks up at the dark ceiling, watching the way the light that filters in from the window cast shadows. There’s not much light—the storm is coming, clouds blocking out the moon—but what does get through comes in little specks, not enough to form any distinct shapes. The thoughts keep pricking at Heechul’s brain, especially now that Jungsoo seems to be talking. Jungsoo is a puzzle, and Heechul will put the pieces together wherever he can. “Was it your choice, Jungsoo?”

“Was what my choice?”

“To become…well, devoted to your goddess. I don’t know what the accurate terminology is, so that’s the closest I can come.”

Jungsoo laughs. “I was a devotee, technically, but everyone always called me a living saint. Eventually I started to think of myself that way.” He pauses, and he’s quieter when he speaks again. “It wasn’t my choice though, no.”

“What happened?”

Jungsoo takes a deep breath. “Everyone hoped I would grow up to be an alpha, but if they were being honest they thought I’d be a beta. Then I turned out as an omega, and that was more than a disappointment. It was an embarrassment. You know how Yoochun was, they all knew he couldn’t be king, but once I presented they all knew he would likely take the throne. And besides, the oldest prince as an omega, it was just—”

“Unacceptable.”

“Yeah.” Jungsoo’s breath is a bit shallow, his heartbeat too fast. Heechul can hear it. “So they did as much as they could to get rid of me.” He takes a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t seem to help. “It hurt for weeks after they purified me. I was so scared, I was barely more than a child, but my father told me that if I didn’t go through with it they would…” He trails off, biting his lip.

“They would what?”

“They would kill me, and they would make it seem like a suicide.” A chill runs down Heechul’s back. “I almost thought about letting them do it. If you had just presented as an omega, and your own father told you that the only way you could live was if you had your male genitalia removed without any kind of anesthetic, would you still want to live?”

Heechul physically winces. He’d known about the procedure, of course, but without anesthetic? Dear gods. “No,” Heechul replies, “I don’t think I would.”

Jungsoo powers through, perhaps guided by determination to get to the end of his story. To move past the parts of it that hurt the worst. “I got used to it, though. The attendants and other devotees helped me through the pain, and eventually the goddess relieved it entirely. And as the months passed by I became content knowing that even though I had suffered that pain, it was so I would never have to know the pain of marriage or childbirth.”

Heechul’s heart drops. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I made my choice to keep on living. Don’t feel bad.”

“I did this to you, though.”

“Because it was what made sense,” Jungsoo replies. “I wouldn’t have wanted Yoochun on the throne either. I don’t blame you for that. For everything else, well, it’s just the inevitable conclusion, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Heechul sighs. “Maybe I should’ve just placed one of the lords on the throne. Yunho, or Siwon, or—”

“No,” Jungsoo cuts him off. “This way, your heir will still have royal blood. If you’d put one of the lords on the throne, the line would be broken forever. The gods would never forgive you.”

“Is that what matters most to you? That the gods will forgive us?”

“I care about my people, Heechul.” Jungsoo’s voice is hardened, a far cry from the shaky, near-crying voice he’d had when he’d told about his own past. Convictions are always the easiest to state confidently. “When we displease the gods, the gods punish the whole kingdom. And that means that the people suffer for our mistakes. How could we not seek the gods’ approval if it means that our people would starve otherwise?”

Heechul doesn’t answer. He’s right. Of course he is. Raised to be a king, and a far better person than Heechul has ever been. It takes enduring pain to be able to empathize with pain, and Jungsoo knows pain in a way that few nobles or royals do.

“Why did you overthrow my father, Heechul?”

Heechul comes up with the only answer that he’s ever told himself, the same one that he told the other lords. He’s still not sure if it’s the real reason. “Because I didn’t want to watch the people starve again.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

Heechul shakes his head, taking a deep breath in. “I know I did, rationally, but I still feel guilty. If not for what I’ve done to you, then what I did to your other siblings. Not all of them were like Yoochun.”

“None of them were raised to rule. The heir and the spare, right? You don’t train all of your children to rule, because then they’ll start getting competitive. You only do it for the first two. And if the first two don’t work out, then you start to pray.”

Heechul looks away. Something isn’t adding up. “What changed, Jungsoo?”

“What do you mean?”

“Two months ago you told me that the two of us couldn’t even _talk_. Now you’re here lecturing me about why I shouldn’t be guilty. What changed?”

Silence. A moment later, Heechul feels Jungsoo’s hand on his arm, delicate fingers pressing into his skin in what should be a comforting gesture. It doesn’t feel like it. “I realized that I don’t want to be alone.”

Heechul snorts. “You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to be alone. We could just lay here in silence until we fall asleep.”

Jungsoo shakes his head. “I mean in a metaphorical sense. Emotionally. You brought me to this point, but you and I are both in this together. Whether for better or for worse. We don’t have to be lovers to be able to talk to each other.”

“So you want to be friends?”

Heechul can’t see Jungsoo’s eyes, but he’s sure that the other is watching him, carefully weighing his words against whatever emotions he can see on Heechul’s face. Always careful. “I want you to trust me.”

Heechul swallows. “And if I ask you for the same thing in return?”

“I never let a gift go unanswered.”


	4. Chapter 4

Over the weeks that follow the festival, Jungsoo comes to sleep in Heechul’s bed each night. While they never have sex—Jungsoo _doesn’t like sex_ —the omega does, over the course of a matter of nights, begin to move closer to Heechul until he is falling asleep with his head on Heechul’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his stomach. He is cute, almost, with the little sounds his breath makes while he sleeps echoing against Heechul’s shoulder and neck. Holding him there, watching him sleep as the sun rises over the horizon, Heechul almost feels like, if he pretended hard enough, he could really believe they were in love.

That’s a dangerous thought to have, though, and one that Heechul extinguishes as Jungsoo begins to yawn awake in the morning light. He doesn’t move away from Heechul, content to lay there as the night turns into morning, but it’s different when he’s awake. Heechul is much more aware of him, aware that he can hear every word that passes Heechul’s lips, that he can hear Heechul’s heartbeat in his chest, that it almost seems like the omega could hear the very thoughts in Heechul’s brain. “Pleasant dreams?”

“I try not to dream,” Jungsoo replies, voice soft, still sticky with the morning air. “They rarely turn out pleasant.”

“Why?”

“Because I dream of my past.”

Heechul’s grip on Jungsoo’s arm tightens. If Jungsoo didn’t wear the veil, Heechul would weave his fingers through the strands of Jungsoo’s hair and brush it, letting his fingers relax Jungsoo’s scalp. That’s the way Heechul knows best to relax someone; it was the way his own mother would calm him and his brothers. But Heechul cannot touch Jungsoo’s hair, so instead he contents himself with rubbing circles into Jungsoo’s arm with his thumb. “Does it hurt that much to dream of your past?”

“Yes.”

Heechul looks down, feeling the near-ticklish sensation of Jungsoo drawing on his ribs with the tips of his fingers. He smiles to himself, and with only a second of hesitation, he brings his other hand, the one not wrapped around Jungsoo’s back, to take Jungsoo’s hand in his. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You ask me a lot of questions.”

“You give vague answers.”

Jungsoo laughs. “Not always.”

“But often.”

Jungsoo clearly doesn’t have a response for that, so he returns to answer Heechul’s original question. “Go ahead and ask me whatever you wanted to ask.”

“Why do you wear the veil? I’ve noticed that none of your attendants wear one.”

Jungsoo takes a deep breath. “Every ritual has its traditions, right?” Heechul hums, nodding. “The purification ritual is very rare. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person alive right now who’s been through it, and there was a gap of a few decades between the death of the last person and my own ritual. Almost no one was allowed in the room, only a few devotees and the ceremonial doctor. Before the doctor came in, one of the devotees helped me lie down in place, and she placed a veil over my head and told me that it was so no one would have to know whether or not I cried.”

“And you’ve worn the veil ever since?”

Jungsoo bites his lip. “Pretty much. Some of the other devotees wear them, but it’s mostly the choice of the individual whether they want to wear it or not. I just—I couldn’t let go of it, once I had it. It’s like a shield. No matter what happens, it won’t be clear if I cry, if I’m angry, if I’m happy or sad. It doesn’t matter. And it’s freeing, in a way. I don’t think someone could really understand, if they haven’t been through the rituals and those sorts of things.”

“I’m sure.” Heechul leaves it there. He does not say that he wishes Jungsoo didn’t wear the veil so that Heechul could see his face, or so that Heechul could kiss him. Dangerous thoughts. “I wonder when they’ll bring in our breakfast.”

“Soon, I hope,” Jungsoo replies, amusement returning to his voice. “Your child makes me hungry.”

“Is it my child whenever it does something you don’t like?”

“It’s always your child,” Jungsoo replies, sleepily snuggling back into Heechul’s shoulder.

“Our child, Jungsoo.”

“Sure,” Jungsoo murmurs, “our child.”

——

“He’s certainly your child.”

Heechul tries his hardest to block out the loud cries of Ryeowook’s newborn son. In the few hours since Heechul arrived with Jongwoon at the estate, he’s been treated to the constant yelling of Jongwoon and Ryeowook’s offspring, all of whom apparently inherited Ryeowook’s lungs. Ryeowook’s strategy for getting what he wanted when they were growing up had always been to cry until it was given to him, and his own children seem to be no different.

“Shh, I’ll take him,” Jongwoon takes the child from Heechul’s arms, and like magic, the crying stops. The crying of that specific child, at least. “Daddy’s boy, isn’t he?”

“Well he must have missed you,” Ryeowook says. “Since you missed most of his pregnancy, and all.”

Heechul can’t help but laugh as Jongwoon splutters. “I did not,” Jongwoon insists. “I missed a few months, not _most_ of the pregnancy.”

“Sure,” Ryeowook replies. “Would anyone like to find a calendar and mark out exactly how many days my husband has been absent since I found out I was pregnant?” He glances around the room at the assembled nurses and servants, none of whom seem particularly keen on going along with his dramatics. “Point is, Jongwoon, you shouldn’t be away so often. Your children are going to grow up resenting you if you’re away this often, you know. And alpha sons who resent their fathers can be quite dangerous.”

Jongwoon looks distinctly unthreatened. “Sure, darling. I’ll keep that in mind.”

At times like these, Heechul is thankful that Jaejoong and Ryeowook are as pretty as they are. They never would have survived this long otherwise. Ryeowook does have a sweet side, but it’s not the type of thing you see at first glance, even with how adorable he looks. He’s a teddy bear covered in spikes, which are in turn covered in glitter. Completely unapproachable, but also more or less harmless. More or less.

“You should take us with you to the capital,” Ryeowook comments, after another minute or two has passed. “Especially with Heechul there all the time now instead of just sometimes—”

“Ryeowook, someone needs to be here to manage the estate.”

“You have brothers. They need something to do.”

“No brothers that I would trust to run the estate as well as you do,” Jongwoon replies. “You’re better at this than I would be. There’s a reason I let you make decisions in my place. But I don’t think I would be able to trust any of my brothers enough to give them that power.”

Ryeowook bites his lip. He likes flattery, and from Jongwoon more than anyone else. Ryeowook had fallen for the lord-to-be when the two of them were little more than children, and he had spent most of his teenage years trying to convince Heechul to convince their parents to arrange the marriage. As much as Ryeowook nags at Jongwoon, he never looked back. “I guess,” he concedes. “Besides, the fresh air is better for the children, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Jongwoon replies, reaching down to brush an out-of-place lock of hair off of Ryeowook’s forehead and press a kiss in its place.

“Careful,” Ryeowook says, reaching a hand up to steady Jongwoon’s hold on the baby. 

“When am I not careful?”

Heechul smiles softly to himself, and he sees the same smile reflected back at him on Ryeowook’s face. Neither of them will say anything, though. Better to let Jongwoon live in a world in which he doesn’t drop things and lose things all the time.

“Why don’t I take him back for awhile?” Ryeowook asks. “I know your other children want to see you. And I want to talk with my brother for a bit, if that’s alright.”

Jongwoon looks between Ryeowook and Heechul for a second, before nodding and handing the baby back to Ryeowook. “I’ll check back in awhile if I don’t hear anything, yeah?”

Ryeowook hums. “I’ll try to come to have dinner with everyone.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“I won’t.”

At least momentarily satisfied, Jongwoon leaves the room. Sensing that Ryeowook wants privacy, the nurses and servants begin to clear out a moment later. Most of them will be waiting only a room or two over, Heechul suspects, but at least they won’t be close enough to hear if Ryeowook talks at a normal volume.

“Well,” Ryeowook says, pulling the blanket over his chest down to allow the infant to suckle at his breast, “I’ve heard about you and the prince, of course. I’m curious.”

“About?”

“Him.”

“So am I, Ryeowook,” Heechul replies. “He doesn’t exactly say much, and what he does say are the type of things I would feel bad about telling other people.”

“You never feel bad about anything,” Ryeowook says. “Or at least, you didn’t used to.”

Heechul ignores the way that Ryeowook is smirking like he knows something. Ryeowook always tries to interfere in matters that aren’t his to interfere in, and Heechul doesn’t particularly need the young omega’s advice. Nor his speculation. “I don’t like hurting people,” Heechul says. “If I can make things easier for him, it’ll reduce the harm. Nothing more than that.”

“Have you finally grown a conscience, big brother?”

Heechul tilts his head, sending him a look of disapproval. “I always had a conscience. I just wasn’t able to exercise it.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Ryeowook smiles to himself, letting his eyes shut. “I think you like him.”

Heechul feels his cheeks burn, and thanks whatever deity is listening that Ryeowook doesn’t see it. “And your evidence for this conclusion is?”

“The fact that you care about him enough to keep his secrets,” Ryeowook replies. “That’s the same way you treat me and Jaejoong, but it’s different than the way you treat everyone else. Even Yunho or one of the other lords that you’re friends with; you’d reveal their secrets in a heartbeat if it was for the sake of a good joke.”

“That means he’s family, not that I like him,” Heechul says, knowing it’s not a good defense.

“And Yunho and Jongwoon, aren’t they your family too?”

Heechul is silent. There isn’t an answer to that question that would end in his favor. “And if I do like him?”

“Then that’s good,” Ryeowook replies. “He probably cares a lot about you too.”

Heechul looks carefully at Ryeowook. He certainly hoped Jungsoo cared about him—how odd a hope that was to have, and one that he knows he would’ve scoffed at a mere few months ago—but as much as Jungsoo _trusts_ him, “care” was never something they agreed on. It doesn’t matter how often Jungsoo sleeps at Heechul’s side or how often Heechul wishes that Jungsoo actually wanted him. Jungsoo is still in this for himself, or at least for his perception of what the gods want. Jungsoo wants his own child to sit on the throne when Heechul dies, and he’ll do whatever he has to do for that to happen. Plain and simple. No emotions necessary. “Why do you think that, Ryeowook?”

“Because I’m an omega,” Ryeowook replies. “As much as I bitch and complain about Jongwoon, it’s quite hard not to become attached to the father of your child.”

“You were already in love with him when you married him.”

Ryeowook shakes his head. “I was in love with my idea of him. I had to learn to love him as the person he is, rather than the person I wanted him to be. That took time. Even if the prince—”

“Jungsoo.”

“Even if Jungsoo,” Ryeowook corrects himself, “didn’t want to marry you, he’s smart enough to realize he’s stuck with you. He’ll learn to love you. Because it’s much more emotionally difficult to carry the child of a person you hate than to learn to love the man who gave you that child.”

——

_The grain shipment from the estate of Lord Choi to the estate of Lord Lee was successfully carried out, as per the king’s orders._

Heechul stares at the note on his desk with pure confusion in his eyes. He hadn’t issued any order to carry out shipments of any kind between estates, especially not of grain. After what had happened under the last king’s rule, he’d thought it best to let grain be handled on the estate it was grown on. “Yunho, do you have any idea what this note is supposed to mean?”

Yunho looks at it, reading it once before looking back up at Heechul. “I think it’s obvious what it means.”

“I didn’t order a shipment of grain, Yunho.”

Yunho’s eyes scrunch up in disbelief. “I saw the order myself, Heechul. It had your stamp on it.”

Heechul’s eyes narrow. “What day was this order sent?”

“It was last week, I think.”

“While I was at Jongwoon’s estate?”

Yunho blinks, the realization coming to him. “Who else could have faked an order from you and put your seal on it?”

“My seal is always in my desk,” Heechul says, opening up one of the drawers to the seal sitting exactly where he had left it. “Anyone who has access to my rooms could do it, but none of the servants can read and write well enough to forge an order believably. And the guards would stop any of the other lords from coming in here if I wasn’t here.”

“Which leaves—”

“Jungsoo.” Heechul is on his feet and walking out of the room before Yunho has time to respond. He walks down the hall, not even pausing to nod at Minho as he enters Jungsoo’s room. The omega isn’t alone, Taeyeon sitting across from Jungsoo in the same tea corner where Heechul had sat and talked with Joohyun a few months before. Heechul ignores her, his eyes focused on his omega. As Jungsoo rises to his feet, Heechul takes him by the collar, pinning him to the wall.

“Heechul, what are you—”

“You forged an order with my stamp on it, didn’t you?”

“Heechul—”

Heechul steps in closer, caging him in, their torsos pressing together. Heechul barely feels it, more intent on getting answers than anything else. “You know that violates our deal, don’t you? That you were supposed to leave me to govern without your interference?”

“Heechul, please—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Is that what you thought?”

“Heechul, your child.”

Heechul pauses, his grip on Jungsoo’s collar loosening as he looks down, realizing that he is pressing up against Jungsoo’s stomach. Too close. His child. He lets go, backing away, and he watches in horror as Jungsoo slides down the wall to sit with his knees pulled to his chest, arms cradling his stomach. Groaning in pain. Heechul doesn’t know enough about how pregnancy how works to know if that had hurt Jungsoo, beyond a little pressure; if there was a chance that he had truly hurt his child… “I’m sorry, Jungsoo, I—”

“Don’t,” Jungsoo says. “Please.”

Taeyeon comes to Jungsoo’s side, helping the older omega sit up more straight, putting herself between Heechul and Jungsoo. She looks up at Heechul and her eyes are filled with nothing but anger. “Your majesty, I think you should go.”

Heechul bites his lip, glances to where Jungsoo’s hands still clutch his stomach, and reluctantly turns to leave. He wants to stay to figure out if Jungsoo will be okay, to make things right, but that’s not how Jungsoo forgives people. He needs time, as much as Heechul will hate waiting for him.

When he returns to his own room, Yunho is still stood next to the desk, unaware of what just happened. “It was a good decision, you know,” Yunho says. “Lord Choi’s estate harvests earlier than Lord Lee’s, so they can just send a repayment later…” He stops. He must have finally caught sight of the guilty look on Heechul’s face. “What happened?”

“I hurt him. Again.” He crashes into the seat at his desk, immediately burying his face in his hands. “It seems like I can’t stop hurting him.”

“Don’t say that,” Yunho says. “You go out of your way to make thing easier for him, Heechul, do you know how few alphas do that in political marriages?”

“I don’t care, Yunho!” Heechul takes a deep, heaving breath, shaking his head. “I don’t care how much I do for him. Because this isn’t about balancing scales and making the help outweigh the harm. Because when I hurt him, I hurt him. Period. Nothing I do will ever change the fact that he’s hurt, and it’s my fault. He’s been through too much already, and everything I do just makes it worse.”

So maybe Ryeowook was right, and Heechul cares too much about Jungsoo. What then? If he never stops hurting him, then it doesn’t matter how much he cares. Of course not. Actions will always mean more than words or feelings, and Heechul’s actions don’t make him look like a good man. They make him look like a murderer, like a rapist, like the man who took a god and destroyed him piece by piece. He will go down in history as a monster. He already knows.

“You hurt him when you married him, and you hurt him now. Between then and now, was there a single time you hurt him?”

Heechul looks up at Yunho. “Yunho, it doesn’t matter the amount of times I’ve hurt him, as long as I continue to hurt him—”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if you’re this torn up about it, then you’re not going to do it again. I know you, Heechul, better than almost anyone else knows you, and I know that you stick to things once you decide to do them. All you have to do is determine that you’re never going to hurt him again, and I know that you’ll do everything in your power to make sure that you don’t.” Yunho pauses, and Heechul knows that he will not be able to say yes to whatever Yunho is about to ask in good conscience. “So, are you going to make that determination?”

“I can try.”

Yunho frowns. “Don’t _try_ , Heechul, just do it.”

“I won’t hurt him again.”

Yunho nods, once, and leaves Heechul alone with his guilt.

Heechul has Minho give Jonghyun the necklace that Jungsoo had once sent him. Goddess of family. A matron of protection.

He is an hour later than usual, but Jungsoo still comes to bed that night, feet gently pattering across the floor until he slips under the covers, sliding across the sheets to rest his head on Heechul’s shoulder, arm slipping over Heechul’s stomach. His stomach, _Heechul’s child,_ presses into Heechul’s side, and Heechul cannot help but assuage his worry before anything else.

“You’re okay?”

“Fine. It only hurt for a few minutes.”

Heechul sighs. “Really, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t forgive me so easily.”

Jungsoo shakes his head, the fabric of his veil moving back and forth over the skin on Heechul’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. And besides, you were right. What I did was against the agreement.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Heechul argues.

“It matters to you.”

“It shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Jungsoo laughs. “I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in one sitting.”

“You deserve an apology.”

“One, not twenty.”

Heechul huffs. “You should never refuse a gift, Jungsoo.”

“I’m not refusing them, I’m just noting that they’re a bit much.”

“It sounded like you were refusing them.”

Jungsoo sighs, a sound simultaneously deep and lighter than air. “Go to sleep, Heechul. I’ll still forgive you in the morning.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the baby's finally getting here. We have two chapters left after this, so this chapter's the calm before the storm. I'm trying to finish this up before I get too busy with school, so the next two chapters should be up in the next 2-3 days.

Winter comes and goes, with reports of heavy snows in the North but with nothing more than the chill of heavy wind to remind them of the season in the South. Before any of them know it, the new spring is coming, and with it, Jungsoo’s child.

“I know you will object,” Jungsoo says, hand cradling his now-obvious bump, “but I want the child born in the way the gods would want it. And that means no doctors. My attendants have all assisted other births before; they know how to handle everything safely.”

Heechul sighs, taking a sip of his tea. “You know I just want you to be safe.”

“And I will be safest with the gods watching over me.” Heechul doesn’t put much faith in gods, at least not as often as Jungsoo does, but he will never say it is foolish to believe in them. Jungsoo’s gods are what keep him sane. “Unfortunately, the traditions also say that the father should not be present for the birth.”

Heechul blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I knew that would be the part you wouldn’t be okay with.”

“I’m not letting you go through this alone, Jungsoo.”

“And I won’t be alone,” Jungsoo replies. “My attendants will be with me, and so will the gods. You’ll see your child soon enough, don’t worry.”

Heechul looks down. This is what Jungsoo has decided, and even though it would be within his power to deny him, Heechul doesn’t have the heart to do it. Jungsoo so rarely gets to make decisions fully of his own. “Fine,” Heechul says. “But if there’s a serious problem, I want your attendants to go get a doctor, even if one’s not present for most of the birth.” Half reluctantly, Jungsoo nods. “I also want your attendants to tell me how things are going throughout the process.”

“So you won’t worry as much?”

“I’ll always worry,” Heechul says. “But I’ll worry less.”

Jungsoo sets down his cup of tea, crawling around the tea table to sit directly at Heechul’s side. His fingers, those pretty, delicate fingers, cup Heechul’s cheeks. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Your brother told me you never used to worry this way.”

“Jaejoong?”

Jungsoo hums. “The stories he tells me about you never seem to match up with the you that I know. But he knew you best when you were young, and neither of us are like we were in our youth.”

“I was an idiot, when I was young.”

“We all were,” Jungsoo says. Heechul does not believe, on some level, that Jungsoo could’ve ever been an idiotic young boy. He is too correct, too poised, every movement measured as if he had been taught to do it that way from birth. “And then we had to grow up.”

“Some of us earlier than others.”

Jungsoo doesn’t respond to that. He is silent for a minute, his hands still warm against Heechul’s cheeks. His fingers shift, pressing into the skin closer to his ears, as he begins to speak once more. “Jaejoong told me that everyone thought you would be an omega.”

“They did.”

“What was that like? Being raised an omega?”

Heechul bites his lip. As much as he knows, consciously, that Jungsoo was raised to be an alpha or beta, is so easy to forget when in every movement he seems to embody omega grace. “Like I was less than the air I breathed. They taught me to read and write, just in case, but they didn’t teach me any of the things alpha boys are supposed to be taught. My father never took me on hunting trips, never let me stay in the room when all of my uncles gathered after dinner. They barely let me hold a book that wasn’t for education or religion. It was like I didn’t exist. Just sit there, shut up, and look pretty.”

Jungsoo lets out a burst of pained laughter. “They gave me all the books in the world, when I was a little boy, and then when I presented they told me the only books I could read were about the gods.” He pauses. “Sit there, shut up, and look pretty.”

Jungsoo’s palms grow sweaty, desperate. Heechul reaches up to hold Jungsoo’s wrists, pulling his hands away and holding their hands together in Heechul’s lap. Jungsoo’s head falls forward onto Heechul’s shoulder, and Heechul lets him rest there. It must have been hard, even without the rituals or anything that happened later, to be raised an alpha and present as an omega. For Heechul, when he presented, he was freed. For Jungsoo, it must have been like walking from the sunshine into a prison. “Do you ever want it back?” Heechul asks, after a minute. “What you had as a child?”

“What’s the use in wanting it?” Jungsoo says, quietly. “It’s gone. I’m an omega. It was never supposed to be mine in the first place.”

Heechul’s heart clenches. “Ignore that. Just imagine, for a moment, that that doesn’t matter. If you could go back to the days of being the crown prince, with all of those books at your fingertips and the crown in your future, would you do it?”

Jungsoo hesitates. Heechul waits. “Yes,” Jungsoo says. “If it wouldn’t make the gods angry, I would want that again.”

Heechul doesn’t know whether or not he can understand that feeling. He had wanted power, when he’d taken the throne he knows he had wanted it, but as the months pass and things go wrong, he’s not so sure anymore. He does not know how Jungsoo could know so clearly all of the problems—Jungsoo reads most of Heechul’s notes, Heechul’s sure of it—and still wish to be the person who has to make decisions. “Maybe,” Heechul says, “maybe in another world, I presented as an omega and you presented as an alpha. You became king, and I became your husband, and none of this had to happen the way it did.”

Jungsoo takes a deep breath. “That’s the thing, though, Heechul. I want all of what I had but…” His voice becomes much quieter, almost as if he does not want even Heechul to hear it. “I would still want to be an omega. No matter how much it hurts.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know how much I could love a child until I felt your child growing inside me.” Jungsoo guides Heechul’s hand to rest on his stomach. Just a gentle touch, and Heechul feels a kick at his fingers. “I don’t think I could give up this feeling for anything.”

——

“His water is broken, but he’s not having any strong contractions yet,” Minseok says, three days before the doctor predicted. “He’s doing fine, emotionally. But he misses you.”

“He told you that?” Heechul asks, raising an eyebrow. He knew the birth was coming, but one of the attendants admitting Jungsoo felt any kind of emotion toward him—that was new. Jongwoon looks away, a smile pulling at his lips.

Minseok shakes his head. “I can always tell. He keeps re-reading the notes you wrote him when you were traveling a month ago.”

Heechul nods. He’d only been gone for a few days, and in truth he’d given the notes to Jungsoo when he’d gotten back instead of sending them directly, but he’d felt the need to write them anyway. He’d gotten used to telling Jungsoo about his day, about the kingdoms’ affairs and what he thought the possible solutions were. Jungsoo never went behind his back to send an order—not after that one time—but he gives advice, and Heechul listens to it. After all, Jungsoo was raised to be king. “Thank you, Minseok. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to give something to him.”

“What kind of something?”

Heechul stands, walking over to pick a blue rose, identical to the one he had sent to Jungsoo as an apology months before. “I hope it’ll make it a little easier.”

Minseok takes it, looking carefully at the rose. “He tried to keep the last rose you gave him alive as long as he could, you know. He practically made us replant it in the hopes it would grow new roots.”

That sounds like Jungsoo. “Well, I hope this rose will at least live to see the birth of our child.”

“That it will,” Minseok says. “Unless something goes very wrong.”

The mood darkens, and Heechul could swear the sky itself darkens as well. Less than a year with Jungsoo and he doesn’t think he could imagine ruling without Jungsoo at his side. Whether as an advisor, giving him advice, or just as the person who sleeps at his side at night, Heechul is attached to him. For better or for worse.

“Best not to think about that,” Jongwoon says, from across the room. “Bad luck only comes if you invite it.”

Minseok looks over at Jongwoon, and a smile begins to come to the attendant’s lips. “Not wrong.” He turns back to Heechul. “Don’t worry. The prince is in very capable hands.”

“I know,” Heechul says. As much as the attendants still do not like him (friendliness is not an equivalent to actual sentiment) he has to admit that they take care of Jungsoo well. After all, he is sacred to them. “Let me know if anything else happens.”

Minseok nods, leaving without any other comment, and Heechul is left to sit with Jongwoon and wait. The other alpha pours him a drink in celebration, downing his own glass before Heechul even really gets a good grip on his. The day’s finally here. His child— _their_ child—will finally be here. The first of their children, at least. As much as Jungsoo doesn’t like sex, Heechul can already guess that Jungsoo’s practical side will insist on having at least one more child. Especially if the first is a girl, and thus has a two-thirds chance of being unable to take the throne.

The second attendant that comes, a few hours later, is Soojung, as tense as ever. “His contractions have started. He’s still up and walking, though, so they can’t be that bad.”

Heechul smiles at her comment. He’d originally only meant to send one gift, but since Jungsoo was still _present_ enough to appreciate them, he might as well send a second. “Well, since he’s still in his right mind,” he walks over to the bookshelf, selecting one of the books off the shelf, “give him this to help pass the time.”

“I said he was walking, not that he was in his right mind,” Soojung says, but she takes the book anyway.

“He’s never in his right mind, is that it?”

Soojung smiles a little, the first real smile Heechul thinks he’s ever been able to draw out of her. She leaves a moment later without another comment, but Heechul feels pleased with himself nonetheless.

“Not much change,” Jonghyun reports, a few hours later, after the sun has disappeared from sight. “It’s been long enough that we all thought I should let you know, just in case.” He pauses, looking down. “He seems to be enjoying the book you sent, though. Not sure how, but he is.”

Heechul nods. “Thank you for letting me know.” Before Jonghyun can leave the room, he speaks again. “Jonghyun, you have a crush on one of the guards, don’t you?”

Jonghyun blushes red just from being called out. Jungsoo wasn’t exaggerating, then. “I—” He sighs, biting his lip. “Yes, your majesty. But Minho is nobility and I’m a peasant, so even if he liked me—”

“Talk to him. If he likes you in return and the two of you would like to get married, I will personally grant you whatever minor nobility title is necessary to make you eligible to marry him. Alright?”

Jonghyun’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jonghyun is out the door before Heechul can really say anything else, and Heechul sincerely hopes he stops to talk to Minho on his way back.

Heechul stays up through the night, Jongwoon long gone home—or at least to his little townhouse where everything is misplaced except for the pile of letters Ryeowook had sent him—and without a sound from the hallways. It is a quiet night, without a moon but without storm clouds either. Heechul wonders whether the child will have his features or—well, he doesn’t really know what Jungsoo’s features look like. But he knows they must be pretty. Hopefully the child will be the same.

As dawn is close to breaking over the horizon, Taeyeon peeks through his door. “He’s fully dilated and preparing to push. Just another hour or two, if all goes well.”

Heechul nods, brain too tired to form a coherent answer. “Thank you,” he manages to murmur out, as Taeyeon closes the door.

He’s close to fully passing out by the time Joohyun comes, an hour later. “One healthy baby boy,” Joohyun says, coming over to pull Heechul out of the chair at his desk and push him toward his bed. “The prince is resting, and so should you. You can see your son when you wake up.”

The words barely get through to him, but he nods as sleep finally comes. His son.

——

Jungsoo is awake when Heechul goes to his rooms to visit him, after he wakes up from his unintentional morning nap. Their son is nursing on Jungsoo’s chest, the omega’s long gown absent even if he continues to wear the veil. “He kept me up all night,” Jungsoo says, arms gently holding the infant in place. “He’s slept a lot since then, though.”

“I bet,” Heechul says. “He kept me up all night too.”

Jungsoo shakes his head in amusement. “You could’ve slept if you wanted to.”

“I couldn’t sleep until I knew you were okay.” Jungsoo doesn’t respond. Heechul leans down to press a kiss against Jungsoo’s forehead through the veil. “Did you enjoy the book I sent?”

Jungsoo hums. “It was one I think I read as a young teenager. One of the histories.” His fingers draw little patterns into their son’s back. Maybe to relax him, maybe just to keep him awake. “I haven’t read it in a long time. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Heechul sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes constantly watching his son. Such a little infant. It’s never wise to start speculating on the secondary gender of an infant, but he knows omega boys are sometimes born smaller than others. Ryeowook had been tiny as a baby, and he’d stayed that way. “Have you thought of a name for him?”

“I thought you would want to name him.”

“You carried him for nine months,” Heechul replies. “I think you have clear priority here.”

Jungsoo hums. “Let me think of a name, then.”

“Alright.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, content to watch their son and listen to his little noises as he nurses. Jungsoo is thinking, but Heechul doubts he’s just thinking about names. It would not take him this long if he were thinking solely of names.

“Heechul.”

“Hmm?”

“I know this isn’t something we’ve really talked about before, but I want you to promise me something.”

He wouldn’t bring it up if it weren’t important to him. Jungsoo has a tendency to push down the less important things, maybe because he thinks it makes the important things matter more in comparison. “What is it?”

“If our son is an omega, you won’t let any of the things that happened to me happen to him.”

Heechul feels his heart break all over again. It seems, each time his heart breaks, that Jungsoo is capable of shattering his iced-over heart into a million sharp crystals with only a single sentence. He’s not sure which part of it hurts more, that Jungsoo is still clearly hurt by so much of what has happened to him, or that Jungsoo believes, on some level, that Heechul would ever put their child through that despite having seen what it had done to Jungsoo. “Jungsoo, I would never…” He takes a deep breath. “I won’t let any of that happen to him, or to any other children we have. I swear.”

Jungsoo nods, slowly, and without his gown, Heechul can see the way that a tear reaches the bottom of his neck, the little drop of water touching his collar bone before disappearing into the surrounding skin. 

“He’s almost finished with nursing, isn’t he?” Heechul tries to change the subject, because he knows Jungsoo isn’t going to say anymore. He needs to think about something else, _anything else._ “I’ll get a towel and burp him on my shoulder, that’s what babies need after nursing, right?”

Jungsoo puts a hand on Heechul’s wrist. “Thank you, Heechul.”

It’s obvious what it’s a thanks for, but Heechul doesn’t do anymore than nod and gently shake off Jungsoo’s grip. Neither of them need to think of that anymore than they already have. Heechul finds one of the little hand towels that the attendants had arranged on a little table across the room. Slinging it over his shoulder, he comes back to sit on the bed. With hands shakier than he ever thought they would be, he takes his son from Jungsoo and holds him against his shoulder, the way he had been taught as a child.

“He’ll grow up with sunshine, Jungsoo. Never with fear,” Heechul reassures him, patting the baby on the back. “We won’t give him reason to be afraid of anything. No matter how he turns out, he’s our child.”

“Being royalty means being afraid, Heechul.” Jungsoo shifts to sit up straighter, bringing the blanket higher on his chest. “I was raised with everyone thinking I would be an alpha or beta, but I was still raised to be afraid. Afraid of the people, if they ever revolted; afraid of the lords, if they grew angry; afraid of nature and afraid of the lands beyond our borders. All of them threaten us all the time and as royalty we are forced to confront those realities at every moment. We have every luxury in the world except the luxury of ignorance.”

“We’ll keep that reality from him as long as we can,” Heechul says, because he knows Jungsoo is right. “Even if we can only keep him innocent for a few years, we will keep him as a child for those few years.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, only the occasional burp or cry from the baby to interrupt the silence. To bring a child into the world is a blessing, but it’s also always a sacrifice. What world would you choose to bring a child into and not feel some kind of guilt for it?

“Heechul.”

“Yes?”

“I have a name.”

The baby squirms against Heechul’s shoulder. If Heechul didn’t know better, he would think the baby was excited to hear his own new name. “What is it?”

“Doyoung.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter. Day late because I was busier yesterday than I expected to be. Final chapter should be up tomorrow.
> 
> (Also: Suju finally came to mainland China for the first time in years! 成都ELF我好羡慕你们！)

Heechul stares down at his notes, glancing once more at the letter that Yunho had slid across to him. The past few months had been going wonderfully, with how smooth Doyoung’s birth had been, but it seems the few months of respite are over. “You’re sure this is one of the sane lords?”

“Completely sure,” Yunho said, voice low. “And there’s more than one reporting the same thing.”

Heechul stares at the paper. There’s just no way—they were following the same crop rotations as they had for centuries, there’s no reason the seeds wouldn’t be growing. If it were only one lord, he’d say they must have planted them incorrectly, they must have been short on rain, anything; but when multiple lords were all saying the same thing? That meant something was truly wrong.

“When combined with last year’s harvest,” Yunho says, “some of them have even begun to say that the gods must be angry.”

Heechul shuts his eyes, letting his face fall forward into his hands. He will always be the last person to attribute something to the gods, but when there’s simply no explanation that makes sense, it’s hard not to. “They’ll want me off the throne.”

“It would make sense. We’ve had the same bloodline on the throne for a millennia, and now—”

“And now I’m on it. And even if I’m married to Jungsoo, my blood isn’t royal.”

Yunho nods. “I hate to say it, but—”

“It makes sense.” Heechul pauses, biting his lip. “It’s the _only thing_ that makes sense.”

Yunho leans back in his chair. He’s obviously troubled, and not only because of the grain shortages, nor because he feels any kind of sympathy for Heechul. Yunho would be a fool not to recognize that his own status has increased greatly since Heechul took the throne. It’s in his favor to do whatever he can to keep Heechul on it. “The lords can be calmed, at least for another few months. There are still a few stores of food while we look for temporary solutions.”

“Temporary solutions aren’t helpful, Yunho.”

“Then you find a permanent one, Heechul.” For once, Yunho truly sounds defeated. “I don’t think we’re going to find one that we’re not all going to hate. Jungsoo can’t rule; there’s a one-in-three chance your son won’t be able to either, even if you ignore the fact that he’s only an infant right now; and if we try to find another relative to put on the throne they’ll most likely have the three of you killed.”

The image returns to him of the blood-stained steps of the West entrance of the palace, where the soldiers had assembled all of the princes and princesses. They’d cleaned it off as quickly as they could, afterward, the smell of lye on the steps mixing with the smell of ash in the air. Heechul had barely felt more than a spark of regret at the time, but when he imagines Jungsoo and Doyoung among the burning corpses, he feels a spark of fear. Never for his own life—as a soldier, he’d come to terms with that long ago—but only for the life of his family. Jungsoo had never raised a finger to harm anyone, but he would be dead at the hands of an uncle of his as easy as Yoochun and Changmin had died at Heechul’s hands.

Yunho is right. There must be something to be done. Even if it is only temporary. “We’ll pacify them for now, and we’ll try to find a more permanent solution. There must be something in one of the histories that can tell us what to do.”

Yunho nods, but he doesn’t look any more optimistic than he had before. “We can hope.”

“We have to hope, Yunho. It’s our only choice.”

——

“You know the history of our nation better than anyone, Cousin.”

“I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m glad you think so.”

Heechul lets a smile pull at the corner of his lips. Saeun hadn’t inherited the same sarcasm that Heechul had, her own family more often being sickeningly sweet than anything else, but she had a few remarks that had a hint of the bitterness. “Well, I’m at least hoping you’ll know enough to help me find a few answers.”

“What kind of answers?” Saeun raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of her tea. Her omega sits next to her, an identical cup in his own hand. He’s the older brother of Lord Lee, if Heechul is remembering correctly, and he shares a remarkable number of mannerisms with his alpha. Really, the two mirror each other at times. It often unnerves people, the first time they meet the couple, if they were not already unnerved by the combination of a female alpha and a male omega.

“I want to know more about the rules for the line of succession,” Heechul says. “How the different rules were created, when, why, those sorts of things.”

“You want to know if your children will be protected,” Saeun says.

“I want to solve a problem.”

“A problem that lies in inheritance law.”

“More or less.”

“Fine.” Saeun takes a deep breath. “I think I know enough to answer your question. Some of the specifics, I’d have to look into the records again to be sure of, but I can give you an overview. The original law said that the throne should be passed via absolute primogeniture. Most records that we can find dating back to that time suggest it was ordered by the gods, but of course some records disagree.”

“Absolute primogeniture,” Heechul echoes. No care for gender, whether primary or secondary. The first born child of the king would inherit the throne, no matter what. “What changed? Obviously that’s not the same law that’s in place today.”

“There were a few different experiments with limitations on the law. Some records justify the changes as being ordered by the gods, but all the changes have more likely explanations.”

“Like?”

“One of the omega kings had a child during wartime. It was inconvenient.”

Heechul blinks. “Inconvenience? That’s why they declared it unlawful for a submissive type to rule?”

“Of course. Well,” she pauses, reaching to hold her husband’s hand. “Many of the noble families had already declared their own lines to be dominant-type primogeniture rather than absolute primogeniture, so you can imagine what the makeup of the council of lords was like. They were looking for an excuse to limit the power of submissive types further, and they found one. Plain, simple, and easy enough to add as a justification into every history book that talks about that era.”

Heechul meets eyes with Saeun’s husband, and he knows, even without the omega saying a word, that the omega has a stake in this. If submissive types were allowed to hold power, he would’ve been a lord. If they reverse this rule, returning it to the original version, that would mean he would take the seat on the council from his brother. Two lords in one marriage. 

“So that means, assuming the gods are real, that they never intended for submissive types to be ineligible to rule?”

“Correct.”

“And that would mean…” Heechul takes a deep breath. “That would mean my husband should be on the throne, not me.”

“Also correct.”

Heechul looks off to the side, out the window that leads out to the gardens. Jungsoo is on one of his daily walks, Doyoung in his arms, but they are far enough away to not hear anything discussed. Heechul had wanted the throne, when he’d taken it, but he knows now that there’s no way to keep it without bringing ruin to the three of them. He either gets Jungsoo onto the throne, or they’ll all end up dead. “If we were to revert to the original version of the law, that would be via a council vote, correct?”

Saeun nods.

“Would you vote for it, if I asked the council to consider it?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You’re willing to give up your throne?”

“It’s Jungsoo’s throne,” Heechul replies, the words tearing their way from his lungs. “I’m simply the one currently sitting on it.”

Saeun pauses, considering him for a minute. “I could try,” she says. “Me, perhaps Sungmin’s brother, Yunho and Jongwoon. I can try to convince the other lords, but many of them are stubborn.”

“And this is the easiest way to save our kingdom.”

Saeun looks at him, then looks out the window as Heechul had earlier. He follows her eyes, settling on where Jungsoo is holding Doyoung tightly to his chest, undoubtedly singing the baby a nursery rhyme.

“We’ll try, Heechul. That’s the most I can promise you.”

——

Heechul is finishing up a few things at his desk when Jungsoo comes in, a few minutes earlier than he normally would. Doyoung doesn’t wake up to be fed every few hours now, so he usually sleeps in Jungsoo’s room—the attendants will deal with him crying, if it is only a diaper change or to be held, and they’ll let Jungsoo know if he _needs_ to be fed—but Jungsoo always feeds him right before bed. Usually, he would be doing that now.

“Already ready for bed?” Heechul asks.

“Mm,” Jungsoo hums, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He seems quieter than usual, but that’s alright. Normal. Probably just tired, what with having to watch over Doyoung and go through his prayers everyday. “Almost.”

“Well, I’ll join you soon enough,” Heechul replies, writing down another few notes. He’s still trying to figure out how to convince the council to allow submissive types on the throne, and while he’s confident he’ll find a way, he doesn’t want to tell Jungsoo yet. No use raising his hopes if they’re only going to fall.

“Heechul,” Jungsoo says after a few minutes have passed, “are you almost finished?”

Now that’s rare. Jungsoo has the patience of a saint. “Why?”

“Because I want…” He trails off, like he’s struggling to find the words. “Just come over here. Please.”

“Alright.” Heechul sets down his pen, arranging the notes in an at least semi-organized fashion for the next morning, and walks across the room to sit down next to Jungsoo. He takes Jungsoo’s hands in his, gently rubbing circles into the skin with his thumbs. “What is it?”

“I…” He brings Heechul’s hands up to his collar bones, then just half an inch higher to the edge of his veil. He pries his hands out from Heechul’s grasp, leaving Heechul holding the edge of the veil.

Heechul feels his heart beating fast in his chest. After so many months, nearly a year, of waiting for Jungsoo to let him see him, it almost hurts to see Jungsoo so hesitant in doing it. But then again, if he hadn’t wanted it, he could’ve waited. He’s waited this long already. “You want me to take off your veil?”

“Yes.”

With unsteady fingers, Heechul lifts the veil back, off of his face and away from the careful bun of hair that had always held it in place. Jungsoo stares back at him with soft, rounded eyes that seem much less threatening than the cat eyes that pervade Heechul’s own family. He has a thin face, with defined cheekbones and jawline that frame a delicate nose and careful lips. Heechul had always known Jungsoo would be pretty, but he could never imagine that he would be this pretty. He’s beautiful. Dear gods, he’s beautiful.

Heechul rests his thumb on the line of Jungsoo’s cheek, staring into those pretty eyes as they blink and look away.

“Sorry.” Jungsoo blushes. “I’m not used to people being able to tell whether or not I’m looking at them.”

“Don’t be sorry. I want you to look at me,” Heechul says. “Your eyes are so beautiful, I don’t want to look away. Except—”

“Except?”

Might as well try his luck. “Can I kiss you?”

Jungsoo hesitates, for half a second, before he leans in and kisses Heechul before the alpha can do it himself. It is awkward, hesitant, clear that Jungsoo has never kissed before in his life. But Heechul presses into the kiss, not wanting to be too forward but easing through the awkwardness all the same. Jungsoo deserves a sweet kiss for his first.

When they part, Jungsoo rests his face against Heechul’s shoulder, perhaps breathing in the unfiltered smell of an alpha. Heechul holds the omega close, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “You’re so beautiful, Jungsoo,” Heechul murmurs. “I know you probably haven’t heard that in a long time, but it’s true. I didn’t know someone could be as beautiful as you are.”

“Don’t flatter me.”

“I’m not.”

Heechul lets one of his hands settle at the back of Jungsoo’s head, gently undoing the bun that had kept his long hair tied on the top of his head. His fingers comb through the long black strands, and he can feel Jungsoo’s soft inhales whenever he pulls a little too hard. “Heechul,” Jungsoo murmurs.

“Yes?”

“I want to have sex.”

Heechul freezes, fingers still caught in Jungsoo’s hair. He takes a deep breath, reminding his muscles to unclench and his heart to beat on rhythm. “I thought you didn’t like sex.”

“I don’t, but—”

“You’re still nursing, there’s no way you’ll be able to get pregnant again from it.”

Jungsoo pulls back from Heechul’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. “Don’t refuse a gift, Heechul.”

Heechul stares into his eyes, seeing the slightest bit of fear reflected back at him, but the overwhelming emotion was _trust._ That’s what Jungsoo saw in him, more than anything else. He trusts him enough to show Heechul his face; he trusts him enough to have sex even though he will get nothing from it. Well, not nothing, if Heechul can have his way. There are other sensitive parts of the body aside from the ones that Jungsoo had lost.

Nodding once, Heechul leans in to kiss Jungsoo once more, letting his lips slide to Jungsoo’s neck a moment later. He lingers on Jungsoo’s pulse point, warm breath against Jungsoo’s skin. He sees the shiver that runs up the omega’s spine, and so he lavishes attention on Jungsoo’s neck until the omega is squirming in his lap, pressing down against him. “Heechul,” Jungsoo breathes. “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good.”

Heechul tries every spot on Jungsoo’s body he can find to place kisses on—ears, neck, arms, legs, stomach—noting in his head the response to each one. Legs are better than arms, but neck is still the best, with gentle kisses there drawing whimpers and restrained moans. Jungsoo is quiet through most of it, beyond his reactions. He doesn’t tell Heechul where to touch, beyond an occasional “not there” when Heechul reaches anywhere where there’s more pain than pleasure. 

When Heechul finally reaches a finger to touch his slit, he finds Jungsoo wet. Before, he’d never found the omega dripping slick; he’d either used massage oils or, when they’d been unavailable, simply hoped for the best. To have Jungsoo against him, clearly aroused, Heechul can’t help but feel proud. Of himself or of Jungsoo, he’s still not sure.

When he sinks into Jungsoo, the omega still in his lap, gasping against him, Heechul can’t help but feel like they are closer than they ever were before. Not physically, of course, because they have been like this a dozen times before, but it feels different when Jungsoo’s hands are clasping at his shoulders and the omega’s breath is hitting his neck and Heechul knows, more clearly than he ever has before, that Jungsoo trusts him enough to let him do this. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as it used to,” Jungsoo whispers in response. That isn’t the response Heechul had hoped for—he’d hoped, even though he’d known it was unlikely, that all of the light touches would bring Jungsoo some inkling of real, genuine pleasure. Perhaps, though, it isn’t so much the physical changes to Jungsoo’s body that stopped him from feeling it. Maybe it was psychological as well, the years of being told he was _pure_ stopping him from feeling everything as viscerally as he could have otherwise.

“I guess that’s the most we can hope for.” Heechul pauses, letting one of his hands come up to tangle in Jungsoo’s hair while the other remains on his hip. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Just enjoy it,” Jungsoo breathes. “You shouldn’t worry about me so much.”

“How could I not worry?”

Jungsoo doesn’t respond. He buries his face in Heechul’s neck again, and with a hint of hesitation, Heechul begins to thrust again, letting his hand in Jungsoo’s hair cradle the top of his head. If he cannot pleasure him, beyond what he has already done, then he will hold him close and protect him. From what, Heechul isn’t sure, but he knows that he must protect him. How far they have come from when Heechul had been the one setting his world on fire.

Sometimes, if Heechul closes his eyes and pretends, he could almost imagine that he and Jungsoo were in love. It is a foolish thought, it always has been, but as their world is lit by candlelight and they’re knotted together, Jungsoo wrapping every limb as tightly as he can around Heechul, it almost seems like it is real.

As Jungsoo lifts his head to meet Heechul’s eyes, a gentle tenderness exuding from the omega’s every movement, Heechul feels it in his chest.

He’s in love with Jungsoo. He’s so in love with him that it hurts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally at the end. I hope you all are content with the ending here, and thank you all for reading.

Heechul awakens before the light begins to peek through the curtains. He expects to wake up with Jungsoo still clutched to his chest, the omega’s pretty lips and sharp cheekbones pressed against his shoulder, but there is no weight against his chest. Heechul sits up, looking around in confusion at his empty bed. Jungsoo never leaves before breakfast, he hasn’t for months.

He sets his feet down on the cold floor, assuring himself that there must be a reason Jungsoo left early. Perhaps he had gone to feed Doyoung, with one of the attendants coming to get Jungsoo instead of simply bringing Doyoung to Heechul’s rooms. That must be it—why else would Jungsoo be gone while the sun itself is still asleep?

Heechul wanders down the hall after he dresses, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark. No need to light a candle that will be so quickly extinguished. He opens Jungsoo’s door without a sound, slipping inside as quietly as possible.

It is light inside, a candle lit at the shrine in the corner. Doyoung is asleep, and Jungsoo is nowhere to be seen. The bed is untouched, the tea corner empty. Something is wrong.

“He went to the temple.” Heechul turns, seeing Joohyun standing at the door. “He came by to see Doyoung before he went.”

Heechul raises an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Joohyun looks at him, a look in her eyes that almost seems like pity. “He’s going to sacrifice himself. He thinks it will save his kingdom.”

Heechul doesn’t hesitate, brushing past her and running down the hall, past all of the guards that salute him as he runs past. Joohyun never lies, and he knows Jungsoo well enough to believe the omega would actually go through with it. He’d thought that Jungsoo had grown past that side of himself; that he’d become accustomed to the world away from the gods. Half a lifetime is rarely so easily washed away, though. Jungsoo loves the gods, his own goddess especially, and Heechul knows that Jungsoo would give anything to please them. If they’d come this far for Jungsoo to die before Heechul could make things right—well, they’d all be damned.

His heart beats fast in his chest as he comes to a stop in front of the temple doors. He takes a deep breath, reaching out to touch one of the door handles. Sure, Alphas aren’t supposed to enter the temple, but in this one case, he thinks the gods will forgive him. If he puts Jungsoo on the throne, if that’s really the right thing to do, then he should be forgiven. They’re all fucked if he’s wrong, no matter what.

He pulls the door to the temple open, slipping inside. None of the other attendants are inside, the main chamber empty except for the figure cloaked in red, prostrate in front of the statue of the goddess.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Jungsoo says, unaware of Heechul’s presence. “I did what I thought was right, but you have shown me that I chose wrong. I know that, now. I want to make things right. I know it will not be easy, but I hope that it will be enough.”

Heechul watches as Jungsoo sits up, arm shaking as he reaches out at the ground in front of him. “I know it will never be enough,” Jungsoo says, voice uneven, “but I hope it will be enough to stop the famines. That much is all I ask.” He takes a deep, unsteady breath in. Heechul finds himself unable to move, unable to speak. All he can do is watch and pray that Jungsoo does not mean to do what Joohyun said he would. 

“And please,” Jungsoo says, quieter, “please let my husband and son live happily. Heechul is a good man, I know he is. It’s not his fault, it’s mine. Please.”

Heechul watches in quiet horror, his heart falling in his chest as Jungsoo raises his hand from the floor, light reflecting off the knife held between his fingers. He has it almost to his neck before Heechul’s throat unclenches enough for him to speak. “Jungsoo, don’t.”

Jungsoo freezes. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“And you’re not supposed to kill yourself. Didn’t we agree on that, Jungsoo?”

“We agreed you wouldn’t kill me. Nothing about me killing myself.”

Heechul takes a hesitant step forward, eyes focused on how Jungsoo is still holding the knife a short distance from his throat. “I thought it was implied, Jungsoo.”

“Stop saying my name.”

Heechul takes another step forward. “Why, Jungsoo? Aren’t I your husband, Jungsoo?”

“Heechul, stop.”

“This isn’t the solution to our problems, Jungsoo!”

“Heechul!” Heechul stops, frozen, as Jungsoo drops the knife. “Heechul, please. I know the only way to make this right is to die. When I married you I disobeyed the gods, and they’ve punished us ever since. Let me set this right.”

“They’re not punishing you,” Heechul says, eyes still on the knife, even out of Jungsoo’s hand. “They’re punishing me. For taking the throne that should have been yours.”

Jungsoo’s head whips around, eyes gazing back at Heechul with confusion mixed with the same fear that Heechul had seen in his eyes the night before. This is what he’d been afraid of. Not of making love, but of this. He’d known what he was going to do the next morning. “What are you saying, Heechul? You know omegas can’t take the throne.”

“But the gods never said that.”

“What?”

“The gods never said a damn thing about omegas not being able to take the throne. If you follow the rules the gods set out and ignore the ones the lords put in place, then _you_ are the only rightful ruler, Jungsoo. Not me.”

Finally reaching Jungsoo at the altar, Heechul kneels down beside him, taking Jungsoo’s hands in his own. “You’re the rightful king, Jungsoo. I’ll make things right. I’ll convince the council of lords to remove the rule about omegas not being able to take the throne, I’ll give you the crown, and I’ll spend the rest of my life guarding you and our son. Whether you want me as a husband, or a general, or even a simple guard. I don’t care. I’ll give everything I have for you, Jungsoo.”

Jungsoo is silent for a moment, perfectly still. His hands in Heechul’s don’t even twitch. “And if you’re wrong? If the gods are angry for a different reason?”

“Then we’re all screwed anyway, Jungsoo. Either you’re right, I’m right, or neither of us are right. That means that two times out of three you would die for nothing. And forgive me for being selfish, but I don’t want you to die.”

Jungsoo’s fingers twitch. “How is that you being selfish?”

Heechul feels his heart beat faster. This is nothing really, compared to everything he’s already said and promised, but it still feels like the words will get stuck in his throat. “Because I’m in love with you, Jungsoo.”

Jungsoo looks down. He closes his eyes, biting his lip. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

Jungsoo’s fingers clutch tightly at Heechul’s, his eyes still closed. “I didn’t want us to come to this point. Because if anything was different, if our kingdom was prosperous and the gods weren’t angry, I think I would be able to say those words back to you.”

“But you can’t.”

“No,” Jungsoo whispers. “Because I’m not going to hurt you like that.”

Jungsoo pulls his hands away, quick enough that Heechul doesn’t have time to hold on. He reaches for the knife again, and Heechul does the only thing he can think of. He lunges forward, tackling Jungsoo onto his back and pinning the hand holding the knife to the ground above his head. “You’re not going to hurt yourself, either, Jungsoo. I won’t let you.” Heechul pushes against Jungsoo’s wrist, twisting it just enough to hurt. “What about Doyoung? Don’t you think he needs you?”

“He’ll be better off if I make things right,” Jungsoo says. “He’ll grow up without me, yes, but one day he’ll become king and it will be alright.”

“And if he’s an omega? What then, Jungsoo? Do we just repeat this cycle over and over?” Jungsoo doesn’t respond. “Let go of the knife, and we can go back to our bedroom and sleep through the night. I’ll talk to the council and give you back your throne, and by the time Doyoung is grown up he’ll be able to take the throne no matter what he presents as. That’s our future. All you have to do is let go of the knife.”

Jungsoo doesn’t let go, but his fingers loosen, just the slightest bit. He’ll get there. Just a little further. “The reason you killed my father and siblings was because they couldn’t rule properly.”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think I would be any better than them?”

Heechul looks at him, and he sees Jungsoo crying, and as many times as Jungsoo has broken his heart this time must hurt the worst. “I’ve seen you make the right decision before, even when it was disobeying me to do so,” Heechul replies, softly. “You were raised to be king, weren’t you? You just weren’t given the chance to take the throne.”

Jungsoo’s hand finally unfurls, the knife dropping from his grasp. Heechul lets go of his grip on his wrist, letting himself rest on his elbows as he lowers his weight onto Jungsoo, burying his nose in Jungsoo’s neck. Gods, Jungsoo smelled so beautiful, and he was safe. For this moment, he was Heechul’s. It didn’t matter, what would happen in a few days or weeks, even if Jungsoo decided that he never wanted to see Heechul again, it would be okay. None of that would matter, so long as Jungsoo was able to sit on the throne that should have always been his. Heechul would be content, simply knowing that he had once loved Jungsoo, if that was all he was given. That would be enough.

“Thank you, thank you,” Jungsoo murmurs, his arms coming to wrap around Heechul’s shoulders. “I love you, Heechul.”

——

“Come on, Doie,” Jungsoo coos. The baby is laying on his stomach, arms out in front of himself, and for all Jungsoo seems convinced that he’s about to start crawling, he mostly just looks content to lie there. “You can do it, baby.”

“Jungsoo, I don’t think—”

“Shh. Look.”

Doyoung lifts up one arm, and, like clockwork, sets it back down. No crawling. Not even a millimeter movement forward.

“I think,” Heechul says, “that you’re just going to have to wait a little bit longer on this one.”

Jungsoo sighs. “Only a few months, I guess.”

He’s nervous. That’s whats behind the fixation on Doyoung crawling, it’s a distraction from the nerves. They’re both waiting for this decision, and they know this decision will determine their fate. Yunho had gotten the decision through the procedures as quickly as he could, but it still took a few weeks. They’re voting on it today, and with Jaejoong allowed to observe as a lord’s spouse, they know they’ll hear about it as soon as it’s finalized.

Heechul reaches out to hold Doyoung, pulling the baby into his lap. “He’s barely half a year old, Jungsoo, there’s plenty of time.”

Jungsoo narrows his eyes. “Royal children are perpetual overachievers.”

“Sure, Jungsoo, sure.”

Heechul stands, rocking Doyoung back and forth as he walks around the little courtyard in the gardens. “You’ll put him in writing classes by the time he can walk, won’t you?”

“If he can talk by then, why not?”

Heechul smiles, shaking his head. “Give him some time to be a child, Jungsoo.”

“I guess.”

As Doyoung reaches up to grab at Heechul’s cheek, the muffled sound of running reaches them. Heechul looks seeing Jaejoong running toward them at an admittedly slow pace, but it’s understandable given the fact that he has a toddler of his own in his arms. “They just decided it,” Jaejoong says as he stops in front of them, between gasping breaths.

“And?” Heechul asks. The world seems to stop for a moment. Because if Jaejoong gives them bad news, everything they’ve done will have been for nothing. But on the other hand, if he gives them good news, then they’re saved. Jungsoo and Doyoung both.

“They voted in favor. The throne is yours, Jungsoo.”

Jungsoo shuts his eyes, taking a long deep breath. “Thank the gods,” he murmurs, and when he opens his eyes again, it’s clear that he’s close to tears. Good tears, but tears nonetheless.

Jaejoong sets down his own toddler, Taeyong, to take Doyoung from Heechul’s arms. Arms now free, Heechul goes to sit by Jungsoo’s side once more, gently cupping the omega’s cheeks in his hands and resting their foreheads together. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“A lifetime,” Jungsoo whispers.

Heechul smiles and closes his eyes, and they rest there as Jungsoo processes it all. A lifetime waiting for this; half of that lifetime spent believing that this day would never come. But here they are, the two of them. It will always be regretful that this is the path they had to take to get here, but they’re here now. And even if history remembers Heechul’s wrongs—it is always important to remember rights and wrongs alongside it each other—it will know that he was the man who put the rightful king back on his throne. And that’s something that can never be taken for granted.

——

“Don’t be nervous,” Jonghyun says, helping to fix the hem of Jungsoo’s gown into place. “You look so pretty, I’m jealous.”

“You shouldn’t be jealous,” comes the comment from across the room, as Minho relaxes enough in his post by the door to feel comfortable speaking out of turn. “You’re quite a looker yourself.”

Jonghyun blushes. “Not today, Minho.”

“Why not?”

“I have more important things to worry about today than you flirting with me.”

“Come on, Jong. You like it.”

Heechul chuckles as the two go back and forth. He smooths down one of the badges on his own uniform, coming to stand at Jungsoo’s side. “Are they actually together?” Heechul whispers.

“Yes,” Jungsoo whispers back.

Heechul smiles softly to himself. Always good to hear. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

“Only a little.”

Heechul takes one of his hands, squeezing the fingers between his own. “Don’t be. You were raised for this.”

Minho gestures to them that the time is coming. With one last glance at each other, they stand in front of the grand doors, arm in arm, as one of the guards on the other side of the door announces their entrance.

Heechul matches Jungsoo’s steps, once the doors are opened, and they make the walk down the great hall together. Jungsoo looks over the crowd without his veil, and Heechul hopes that all of the lords are as stunned by his beauty as Heechul had been. His beauty is only accentuated by the crown he wears, the same crown that Heechul had worn not a few weeks before. Not made for an omega, and yet somehow seeming to fit so perfectly on Jungsoo’s head.

They reach the stairs in front of the throne and they separate. Heechul takes Jungsoo’s hand gently in his, placing a kiss against the tattooed skin on the back of his hand. He nods once, and then lets Jungsoo go. The omega turns, walking up the steps with a kind of grace that Heechul had always lacked. As he reaches the top he turns, looking over the assembled lords and generals, before sitting.

Heechul takes a deep breath, and with a pride burning in his heart, he is the first in the room to fall to his knees. As the lords and generals follow, half a second behind, Heechul looks up at his husband, his King, and he bends forward to press his forehead against the ground.


End file.
